


Yet Something Had To Of Happened

by veinsofelectric (orphan_account)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Dark Harry Potter, FUCK peter pettigrew, Hermione gets redemption, I made up the death eaters names that only had last names or were ‘unknown’, I’m not sure about Ron yet, KREACHER YOU FUNKY LITTLE ELF YOU, Lixian Fawcett and Evan Rosier are flirts, M/M, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Molly Weasley Bashing, Necromancer Harry Potter, Remus Lupin is a Good Parent, Sirius Black is a Good Parent, animal lover!harry, fuck u all why isn’t that a hashtag????, i identify with Vienna Hawthorne, ive been dubbed the Bob Ross of names, that's not referring to beastiality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:09:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 64,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25475161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/veinsofelectric
Summary: lucius malfoy stops near the boy. the boy smiles hesitantly, not even reacting when lucius turns so that his wand is in position to deflect attacks.wait,why on salazars green earth is potter smiling at him? why has the boy not even attempted to reach for his wand?the moment of silent staring is interrupted by arthur weasley. lucius can’t help but notice the fear and anger that glazes over the boys eyes. hes sure he hadn’t imagined the boys hands shaking either when corvus brings it up later.something big was happening and lucius cant help but wonder if it will be in their favour —the dark faction— or if it will be in neither.(Not an extract from the story and I’ll probably change this at some point.)I orphaned this work because I know I won’t update it like ever again - veinsofelectric
Relationships: Bartemius Crouch Jr./Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Other(s), Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, eventually anyways he hasn’t exactly shown up yet and I’m up to chapter seven so far, maybe im not sure but I’m a sucker for poly relationships
Comments: 137
Kudos: 531





	1. Running

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I haven’t bothered to spell check I’m posting this so it doesn’t waste away unused in the notes section of my phone
> 
> NOTE: I haven’t bothered adding in italics from my notes bc they don’t transfer so you can imagine for me <3

harrys used to running at this point in life. running from many things; voldemort, dudley, his responsibilities —hermiones words not his own—, aunt marges dog —ripper is a suitable name for the dog, the scar on harrys leg confirms that— but that never made it any less frightening.

running means there’s something to be running from. if harry had his way —one day, he vows he will— he’d never run again, never could he run for entertainment. 

his stamina has always been strong, built up from years of necessary exercise; his lungs on the other hand never built a tolerance to his panicked breathing that came alongside running, he’s always been thankful his terrible luck didn’t give him asthma. 

it’s not much of a surprise when he finds himself running from the dark cloud that appeared over the park. a horrible feeling creeping up his throat had him doubting his involvement in the entire thing. 

he reaches the little tunnel eventually, shirt soaked through and glasses blurry. dudley stands beside him, leaning his hands on his knees as he tries to heave breaths into his greedy lungs. harry wonders if that’s why the air feels so thin tonight, dudleys inhaling it all —at least he hopes that’s why. 

the cold slowly sleeps into his body, skin tingling, harry thinks his bones might be as well. his ears are ringing and he gags when the feeling of sludge fills his trachea. he coughs slightly and frowns when he finds his hand full of blood. 

they stop walking at the end of the tunnel, dread falling over them like wedding veil, a date with death so to say. harry prays to a god he doesn’t believe in that it’s not the case. 

he stops breathing when a familiar black figure swoops in and pins him to the wall by his throat, cutting off his oxygen intake. 

“RUN!” he screams at dudley who takes off in the other direction. 

harry inhales painfully when another dementor appears, pulling dudley down and towering over his cousin. the dementors both start to inhale and harry hand twitches towards his wand frantically. 

his vision goes black as he hears his mothers screams and he’s sure he’s dying as they slowly fade into serene silence. 

he opens his eyes blinking rapidly as he tries to find his bearings. he hasn’t moved from the floor where the dementor dropped him. the dementor seems to back away as harry blinks and harry grabs his wand. 

“expecto patronum!” harry screams as a horrible pain shoots through him and the patronus flies towards dudley, the dementors fleeing at the sight of the glowing animal. 

harry scrambles for footing as he crawls towards dudley, sighing in relief when he finds the boy is alive and breathing. 

he cries out, hunching in on himself as he tries to find what hurts so much. his hand brushes over every possible place but he cannot locate where the feeling of a gaping hole was. it felt like his chest had been torn open and he clutches his shirt as he turns to the side, coughing up more blood away from his cousin. 

he startles as he hears a screeching noise enter the alleyway. he groans as he spots mrs figg walking towards them. she gasps when she sees them. 

“up you get now! let’s get you pair home! don’t put away your wand harry, they might come back.” she chides quickly gesturing at dudleys petrified form. 

dudley definitely isn’t all there as harry hoists the boy off the floor, throwing dudleys thick arm over his own shoulder. 

he trembles under the weight of his cousin and the gut-wrenching pain that’s spread through his whole body. 

he doesn’t remember most of the walk home as he opens his heavy eyes and finds them at privet drive road already. 

“dementors at little whinging! whatever next?” he hears mrs figg mutter and falters slightly, his whole body breaking into a cold sweat. 

“i don’t understand. how do you know that?” he asks through gritted teeth as he pants. 

“dumbledore asked me to keep an eye on you.” that’s information harry files away for later, his head spinning too much to comprehend the words. “after last year with that diggory boy, do you think he’d leave you alone! i thought you were intelligent!” they finally reach number four, dudley looking around dreamily. 

“now get inside and stay there, i expect someone will be in touch soon and whatever happens, don’t leave the house.” she croaks, failing to sound serious to harry in any sense. she pushes his shoulder and harrys vision goes blank again in pain from the touch. he whimpers and stumbles away. 

he opens the door, the tv blaring loudly through the hall. “dudkins! is that you?” he hears his aunt call. harry pushes the door open, dragging a pale dudley behind him. 

“dud? vernon come quick!” petunia calls when she sees the state of them. she shoves harry away and takes dudley to sit on the couch. he watches his uncle toddle out of the kitchen, placing a tub of ice cream on the counter. “we’re going to have to take him to hospital!” petunia whispers in misery. 

“who did this to you boy?” vernon demands to the mostly unresponsive boy. mostly being as he raises his hand to point at harry. harry cringes away from their looks, hating the sudden gazes that are completely unwarranted. “happy, are we now? you’ve finally done it. you’ve driven him loopy!” vernon snarls weakly, his voice betraying his fear. 

“don’t say that!” petunia says as she wraps her arm around her trembling son. 

“look at him petunia! our sons gone mad!” dudley did match the description, whimpering over a bucket, bug eyes crossed unnaturally as they look around. “i’ve reached my limit you hear? this is the last i’m going to take of you and your nonsense!” vernon grunts as he slowly edges towards harry. 

an owl flies in, breaking the tension as it drops a letter before flying up into the ceiling. the letter slowly floats up and harry realises with despair it’s a howler. 

“ Dear Mr Potter,

We have received intelligence that you performed the Patronus Charm at twenty-three minutes past nine this evening in a Muggle-inhabited area and in the presence of a Muggle.

The severity of this breach of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery has resulted in your expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Ministry representatives will be calling at your place of residence shortly to destroy your wand.

As you have already received an official warning for a previous offence under Section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks' Statute of Secrecy, we regret to inform you that your presence is required at a disciplinary hearing at the Ministry of Magic at 9 a.m. on the twelfth of August.

Hoping you are well,

Yours sincerely,

Mafalda Hopkirk

Improper Use of Magic Office Ministry of Magic ” 

expulsion . harrys blood feels like it’s starting to boil. 

his throat clogs up again and he clenches his fists tightly on his lap. 

“justice!” vernon whispers happily. 

harry lets go. 

harry screams as his magic bursts outwards, reaching in purple tendrils towards the three on the other side of the room. he falls to his knees as he yells out in agony and misery, he’s just lost his only place to get away. 

hogwarts is like a home to him and now he can never go back, he’s stuck here in privet drive. privet drive where he’s the delinquent nephew of darling petunia dursley: where he can never make any friends: where he’s all alone. 

he sobs loudly in anguish as pulls on his hair. this is all his fault. if he hadn’t gone to the park today, none of this would’ve happened. 

then his vision goes fuzzy and everything goes black. 

he wakes up, feeling off-centre in his own body. something isn’t right. he reaches up to look for his glasses but finds he can see without them. he blinks, that’s not right. he’s  always needed glasses, why doesn’t he need them now?

he quickly looks around, trying to remember what had happened after his magic lashed out but can’t recall anything. 

nothing , why doesn’t he know what happened? where did the purple magic come from? was it his magic?

he looks to find his hands still stained with blood from coughing it up in the alley. light floods in from the window, it looks to be around sunrise, early morning.  morning ? wasn’t it almost  evening ? 

what the hell happened? 

harry pushes himself up off the kitchen floor, his body protesting each movement. he looks around but all he can hear is the dim noise of the tv. maybe they really did take dudley to the hospital and the boy had to stay overnight?

harry walks into the living room and comes to a halt, his eyes focusing on the three bodies in the living room. 

he exhales sharply, they hadn’t moved from where they were, just slumped over. harry hopes whatever happened made them only pass out like him. 

harry moves slowly towards his aunt, hesitance in every step. leaning down, he shakes her shoulder harshly. 

she doesn’t move. 

he starts to hyperventilate, moving so that he can feel her pulse. 

nothing. she’s  dead . 

he moves towards his uncle and cousin, finding the same thing. both  dead . 

he’s killed his relatives. 

the information doesn’t register and harry moves into the kitchen again to get a glass of water. 

he sees a note on the counter and opens it slowly. 

it’s from professor lupin. they’re coming to get him. 

and his relatives are dead in the living room. 

the glass falls from harrys hand as he rushes back into the living room, finally understanding the severity of what has happened. 

he needs to fix this but how? how can he fix this? 

he doesn’t realise his magic is seeping out until it’s wrapping around his relatives again. he pauses in horror as a white light slowly oozes down into them from the ceiling. 

they blink and open their eyes. 

harry stops pacing. they’re awake?  alive ? they were dead just a minute ago, he’s sure of it. did he just  resurrect them?

he whimpers, reaching out to help his aunt up. 

his hand goes through her. 

his hand goes through her . 

he gasps, falling backwards. he watches them move carefully. dudley seems his usual smug self, like he was never near a dementor to begin with. 

harrys breathing picks up and he reaches out to grab his own arm. is  he dead?

he paces back into the kitchen, how in the hell does he know if he’s alive? how could he possibly tell who the dead ones are?

his eyes catch the knives glinting in the stand. he grabs one without a second thought and races up to his room, taking both letters with him. they don’t react to his footsteps clambering up the stairs and he doesn’t know what to do. 

he sits on his bed, shutting the one lock that works from the inside. 

grabbing the knife he feels the bed under his hands. he can still feel, so why can’t he touch them? or is it that they can’t touch him?

harry places the knife against his wrist, debating wether this is the right way to find out. it’s the only way he can think of and he needs to know  now . 

he slices. 

the skin splits and blood bubbles up before flowing slowly down his arm. it’s barely a surface wound and harry moves to check again, deeper this time. and once more, just to be sure. 

he throws the knife against the wall, pulling his knees to his chest, ignoring the blood staining his arm. 

he is alive. he wouldn’t bleed if he wasn’t. 

maybe his magic did something. something more than just kill and resurrect them. 

oh god, he’s truly a  freak . 

the next few days are a blur to harry. he showers early in the morning, trying to get the dursley’s to shout at him; to react to  anything he does.

his nights are sleepless and he can’t even look at his wand anymore. 

he doesn’t know if he can ever use his own magic again. it makes him sick to think about what he did, what he’s become. 

he’s a murderer. he’s worse than voldemort for what he’s done and he didn’t even have to try. he killed them with  accidental magic. accidental not purposeful. 

there’s something outside the house too. around the whole house. he can see it. 

it took him more than a day to realise that it’s the blood wards dumbledore mentioned. they look weak and faint, a light red in colour. 

he has gone out to try and see if he could touch them. he did touch them but it resulted in unimaginable pain. it wasn’t as bad as when he cast the patronus, but it hurt nonetheless. 

he had curled away after that, shutting himself in his room, not going out to eat anything. he couldn’t bare the thought of being in a room with people who were nothing more than ghosts to him. 

it’s friday now, four days since the incident. the dursleys had left in the early evening, he heard petunia say something about a lawn competition and immediately knew it was a hoax, something that would get him in more trouble next summer if they could even see him. 

harry forces himself to eat something for the first time in a week. he can stomach nothing more than a simple sandwich and it makes him feel terribly aware. 

he ends up in the living room, staring at the spot where days earlier his relatives fresh corpses had laid. 

it takes more effort than he’d admit to turn away from the scene and lock himself back in his room, curled up in a hoodie that drapes off his skinny body. 

he’d packed everything a while ago, knowing he’d have to leave as soon as the order came. his trunk had physically burnt his fingers and harry could see the light magic encasing it’s. 

his wand had felt wrong and harry eventually had to cover his hands with his sleeves to pick anything bright up and lock it in his trunk. he had kicked it away and the only thing that didn’t hurt him to see or hold was his invisibility cloak, something he’s ever grateful for. 

he’d covered the trunk with the cloak, inside out so he could still see it when it was time to go. 

he’d opted to grab one of the metal baseball bats from the shed that dudley never used after the first time and keep it in his room. if he wasn’t going to use magic, he still had to defend himself somehow. 

he curls into the corner of his bed, hedwig sitting next to him, nuzzled asleep into his side. the dursleys couldn’t see her either. in fact they ignored anything remotely related to harry in any sense. he’d seen them walk past his room when he was leaving the shower, it was like his door didn’t exist. they used to sneer at and harry would’ve taken that over it apparently not existing. 

he’s shaking with sobs as he slowly lets the past few days catch up to him. he is a horrible monster that doesn’t deserve to be a wizard. 

he slowly lets himself fall victim to the gaping hole in his chest. his emotions leaving him to make room for his age old tiredness. he’s so tired of all this shit happening to him. why can’t he just be normal? 

his eyes slowly shut and he drifts into restless sleep. 


	2. The Order of the Phoenix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not spell checked in the slightest 😔✌️

his body wakes up on its own accord and it takes a moment for harry to realise why; there’s clattering downstairs and he’s supposed to be home alone. the dursleys left and definitely wouldn’t be trying to quietly make their way in like these people, it’s their house after all. 

there’s footsteps, multiple people are here by the sounds of it. harry reaches over to grab the bat, his first instinct to defend himself. he wonders if he’ll ever use his wand again, but he didn’t have to use his wand to make himself a murderer. he opens the window and hedwig flies away. 

he inhales sharply, trying to stop the trembling that the memories bring: the pain from the patronus being worse than the cruciatus; waking up to find corpses in the living room; watching the blood wards slowly fade with no idea why he can see magic all of a sudden. all of the confusion and loneliness this summer left him with; nobody to talk to with no one writing to him. 

everyone had abandoned him this summer and perhaps that’s why harrys magic is changing. no one is there to tell him how to act or what to do, so his magic must’ve decided for him. sure he’s thought about killing the dursleys but he’d never have gone through with it in his wildest dreams. 

he doesn’t know if he can forgive his supposed best friends this time either. he really needed them this time, more than normal but now he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to stay around them. he’s obviously got some type of reaction to light magic and they’d never touch anything dark, not even for his sake. 

he doesn’t even know how he’ll react to dark magic in all honesty. if his cloak is dark, he might have to re-evaluate his views on magic. 

the key slowly starts to turn in his door and harry raises his bat behind his head, making sure he has easy aim for whoever is coming after him. 

he tries desperately to calm his nerves, he doesn’t want his magic lashing out and ending up with even more walking dead. oh god he’d created zombies hadn’t he? he pushes the gruesome images down, there’s no reason to dwell on what might happen to the dursley’s in the future because it’s not happening now. 

the door slowly creaks open and harry squeezes his eyes shut as his vision is invaded by figures smothered in blinding light. he takes a step backwards, keeping his eyes away from them at all costs. 

he slowly lets his vision focus on the figures, wondering if he should put his glasses on to stop any suspicions arising. it’s too late anyways. 

“professor moody?” he asks slowly as the light dims to be just slightly annoying, but he could ignore it now. “what’re you doing here?” the girl in front seems to have milder magic, not as light as the rest but not dark by any means. 

professor lupin walks into the room and harry has never felt more grateful to see the man. the man isn’t covered in nauseating light but a wispy dark colour, not as dark as the purple magic was however. it must be because he’s a dark creature, harry thinks. 

“rescuing you of course!” moody barks and tonks slowly picks up his trunk after harry grabs the invisibility cloak off the top, shoving it inside. 

harry gravitates towards professor lupin, trying his best not to sway as the vertigo from his malnutrition hits him. professor lupin grabs his shoulder and harry relaxes into his grip, it’s nothing like the push mrs figg gave him, it didn’t hurt like her touch. 

“you alright harry?” the man asks softly, a look of concern and confusion in his eyes. harry nods stiffly and follows them —the order, they called themselves— outside the house. he stops a few feet away from the ward, it faded a lot since harry had touched it. the spot he had touched turned a nasty purple colour as well, almost like it was infected. 

it’s then harry realises professor lupin can touch him. he turns to the professor startled, maybe his magic did hide his presence from the dursleys after all. he doesn’t think it would be impossible, he killed them and then he brought them back to life for goodness sake. 

lupin gives him a questioning look but harry just swallows harshly and turns away, he doesn’t know how much his eyes give away, he hadn’t exactly looked in a mirror lately. he became sick at the thought of seeing himself after committing such a crime. 

“i was expelled...” he says softly and lupins eyes show he knows something more is happening to the boy. 

“not yet you’re not!” moody snaps and harry wants to growl back at the man all of a sudden. 

“i’m pretty sure i can read and on top of that the letter read itself for me. i’m not deaf professor, no matter what you might think.” harry retaliates, his magic slowly starting to vibrate under his skin. he sighs and looks forward. 

“you can wait to ask questions until we’re back at headquarters!” the purple haired girl supplies cheerfully, not even thinking how harry might react to being ordered around. 

“not here nymphadora!” moody snarls unpleasantly, his magic jumping as a reaction. harry blinks the magic away and turns as the girls hair slowly turns red. 

“don’t call me nymphadora!” she barks back and harrys magic itches uncomfortably like the display of magic is familiar to him. 

“right..” moody taps his staff twice and brooms come flying towards each of them. harry catches himself before he screams out, biting his lip as the brooms magic burns his hand. it’s the same magic that covers moody and harry tries to brush it away with his sleeve, watching as his hand heals itself, purple webs of magic closing the burns on his hand. 

harry pushes his own magic out to cover the broom before it can hurt him anymore. he looks around, glad nobody noticed the little display. 

“stay in formation!” moody orders as they mount their brooms and start to fly up. harry thinks this is ridiculous, couldn’t they just use a portkey? anyone can see them at this time of night, especially death eaters. 

the ride to london is too long for harry and uncomfortable. the mans magic residue hadn’t fully disappeared and harry has to quickly cover his hands with his sleeves to stop anymore damage coming their way. his magic seems to slowly retreat back into him, sensing his discomfort and he wishes for once it would stay where he put it. 

they fly over the river and harry resists the urge to just fly straight into it to get rid of the horrible itch the mans magic left behind. 

before harry knows it they’re landing in an abandoned park, he’s first off his broom and almost throws it into lupins arms to get it away from himself. 

the man eyes him carefully, his eyes stuck on the boys shaking hands and skittish movements. the man gently takes the broom out of the boys hand and watches as the boy slowly calm down. 

“is there something wrong with your broom?” he asks worriedly, making sure it’s only harry who hears him. 

harry shakes his head but makes sure he doesn’t get close to touching his beloved broom. lupin finds it weird, the boy adores the broom because sirius got it for him but now he won’t even step within a foot of it. 

he slowly puts his hand on harrys lower back, remembering how the boy had curled into his touch earlier and sure enough it happens again. the boy is obviously doing it unconsciously and maybe he just needs a familiar face after this whole disaster. 

they leave through a gate and harry wishes he could tell professor lupin how thankful he is for the man right now. they stop in an empty street and harry carefully eyes the paper moody thrusts out for him to take. 

he takes it, making sure all his skin is covered from the nasty magic residue. he reads the paper and suddenly the street is moving. 

he watches through the window of number eleven, how the muggles don’t even move or notice the commotion. surely if someone were to come out to see them now, they’d look like they just came back from a fancy dress party and harry might even be considered the designated driver. he imagines they’d think moody to be a special effects specialist with how his eye moves before the man whips his wand out and changes their memories; his movements showing how many times he’d done it before, his muscle memory enabling him to do it in his sleep if needs be. 

harry slowly walks up to the door, sighing when lupin removes his hand from loss. harry gently pushes the door open and steps inside, catching himself against the wall when his vision is encompassed by patches of blinding light all over the place. 

moody shoves past him as does everyone else but harry doesn’t look at them. he slowly slides down the wall, pressing his palms into his eyes as he crouches, grinding his teeth in pain. 

“harry? are you sure you’re alright?” professor lupin is the only one left in the hallway by now, stopping to crouch near where harry is situated. 

“‘m dizzy.” he offers half heartedly and lupin nods to himself. 

“do you need help getting to your room?” he pries gently as he shuffles closer to the boy, heart aching with how small he looks. 

“please...” harry whispers and lupin has to catch himself before he gapes at the boy. this is not the harry he taught in third year by any means. 

he slowly grasps the boys upper arm in his hand, sighing in relief when the boy lets him help him getting up. he keeps his hand around harry as he leads the boy slowly through the hall and towards the stairs. 

“harry, dear!” molly weasley shouts and harry whimpers, his ears ringing as the woman’s light magic seeps through the cracks in his fingers from where he’s covering his eyes. 

“bright.” he whispers stepping back, lupin —the only who heard him— quickly moves between the two, shushing molly. 

“he’s not well molly and he can’t deal with you right now. he’s asked me to help him to his room so if you’d please wait until he’s better to talk to him.” lupins soft voice is stern and the tension rises in the hallway. 

“i can take him up, remus! or ron can come get him!” harry slowly pushes into professor lupins side, not wanting to get anywhere near the approaching light. 

“well he’s asked me molly and with how he’s moving away from you, you are making the situation worse. don’t start an argument right now because i will not just stand here and take it while harry collapses at my side. move!” he demands and she huffs, moving back to where she came from. “can you get up the stairs?” he asks softly when the woman is completely gone. 

“just... just stay by me.” harry tries to ignore the patches of light magic he can see through his hands and lets the professor walk in front of him, leading him up the stairs gradually so that harry doesn’t fall back down. 

“is it your eyes or head that hurts harry?” he asks when they finally reach a landing. 

“bright.” harry chokes again, repeating his earlier words. the ex-professor turns the words over in his head as he slowly opens the door to the room harry and ron will share. 

harry backs away from the door, whimpering in pain and moony howls unhappily seeing his cub in pain. 

“do you want to go in my room for now?” he asks harry softly. harry nods, still trying to get away from the door. 

lupin —remus— pulls him down into the darkened hallway. he pulls out his wand and casts a lumos. harry cries out in pain and remus curses himself, snuffing out the light and letting moony lead them to their room with his senses. 

he opens the door, quickly looking around to find only candles lit. “are the candles too bright?” he asks and harry shakes his head, no. remus slowly helps harry to reach his bed, gently easing the boy to sit on the mattress. 

“you can sleep here for now okay? if it’s gets too bright you can put out the candles okay. it’s a lot quieter on this side of the house, i’m sure you’ll appreciate being away from your friends while you’re sick.” he whispers, pushing harry to lay down and covering him with the duvet. 

kneeling down beside the bed, he brushes the hair out of the boys eyes, smiling softly when harry gingerly pulls his hands way from his eyes. 

“why is it always you?” he whispers exasperatedly and decides to ignore the quirk of harrys lip. 

he sits beside the bed until he’s sure harry is asleep and moony is happy his cub is safe. he carefully steps out of the room, casting a monitoring charm on the door that will alert him when harry is up. he makes his way back downstairs and into the kitchen. 

“remus, you’re back!” sirius greets, breaking the tense silence that had slowly risen when molly came back in with a sour look on her face. 

“where’d you go lad?” moodys voice booms across the table as remus takes his seat next to sirius at the head of the table. 

“apparently harrys sick! he wouldn’t just let me put the boy in his room, had to do it himself he says!” molly sniffs, turning her nose up at remus who glares instead of submitting like he usually does. 

“he didn’t want you near him molly and anyone could tell by the way he moved into me!” he growls across the table, ignoring the way sirius’ hand tightens around his glass. 

“harrys sick?” sirius asks, everyone else looking as intrigued and concerned as him. 

“could barely stand up.” remus sighs. 

“he seemed fine on the way here.” dora pipes up with a frown. going through their encounter in her head by the look of her face. 

“well he wasn’t and none of us noticed it until i saw him collapse in the hallway.” remus says bluntly, happily watching as she flinches back. they’re aurors for goodness sake, they’re supposed to notice when people hide things. 

“he collapsed? he was standing just fine when i saw him.” molly interrupts again and moony growls lowly at her. 

“the boy couldn’t stand without my support molly. he was too busy trying to cover his eyes to stand alone.” remus snarls, getting sick of mollys attitude. 

sirius frowns next to him unhappily at the way molly is talking, not fond of her after all this time anyways and she makes it worse for herself. 

someone knocks on the door and hermione opens it slowly. “i’m sorry to interrupt, it’s just we thought we heard harry come in?” she asks and all eyes turn to remus in confusion. 

“he’s alright miss granger, simply needed to get away from being crowded for now. i’m sure he’ll be with you later this evening, i’ll be getting him for dinner anyways.” she nods at his words and leaves, her footsteps audible back up the stairs. 

“he’s not in his room with ron?” molly frowns distastefullu, eyeing remus with suspicion. 

“yes because the best place for a sick child is in a room being crowded by a bunch of rowdy teenagers.” he quips sarcastically, quite sure he saw severus’ lip quirk up. 

“he’d be better if he spent time with his friends after being alone for so long!” she shouts and remus almost stands up in agitation. 

“and who’s fault is it that he was alone so long?” he snaps and she glares at him angrily. “he refused to go in the room anyways. he said something about it being too bright and wouldn’t get near the door. don’t you dare accuse me of separating him from them.” he clenches his jaw, glaring back at her, eyes full of nothing but malice. 

“are the boys eyes hurt?” severus asks into the silence. 

“the funny thing about that is he didn’t even have his glasses on when we got him. he sight was completely fine.” kingsley adds nonchalantly but it makes the order more attentive nonetheless. 

“the light was hurting his eyes.” remus confides, startling severus with the direct attention. “i’m not sure how long he’s been in his room but it was darker than anything in there so coming here might’ve been a change too sudden for him.” he explains and severus nods in agreement. 

“will he be alright?” sirius asks softly, his eyes locked on the table. 

“he should be fine but he’s not well right now sirius. not well at all.” remus sighs to his friend softly, looking older than ever. “it was horrible, he was trembling terribly but was sweating as well so he wasn’t cold.” he grabs his drink off the table, throwing his head back to drink it. 

“where is he now?” molly inquires, already edging towards the door. 

“what? so you can go and pester him, the last thing he needs right now is to be mothered. no, i won’t tell you.” he says simply, even snape looks appraising. 

“sirius!” she argues. 

“i don’t know where he is! i haven’t seen him yet!” he hisses at her, his anger slowly bubbling, dangerously. 

“now, the prophecy. who are we trusting with the information.” molly interrupts, changing the subject. 

“if anyone has the right to know, it’s harry. if it wasn’t for harry, we wouldn’t even know voldemort was back! he’s not a child molly.” sirius announces and remus rolls his eyes at the dramatics. 

“he’s not an adult either! he’s not james, sirius. ” she erupts, throwing her tea towel onto the table. she relishes in the flinch the marauders give and they glare back harder at her. 

“he’s not your son.” sirius whispers dangerously. 

“he’s as good as.” she sniffs pompously and remus has to hold back a laugh at that. “who else has he got?” she snaps. 

“he’s got me.” sirius scoffs at the obviousness of it. 

“how touchingly paternal, black. perhaps potter will grow up to be a felon, just like his godfather.” severus speaks up, obviously sick of the petty argument the two are having. 

“you stay out of this snivellus!” sirius, unsurprisingly, rises to the jab. “i don’t care what dumbledore says about not giving him information, i know him better!” and it’s true, he knows how much harry hates having information withheld from him. 

“so why don’t you tell him?” severus challenges. 

moodys eyes stays on the door as they argue back and forth. “seems we’ve got some eavesdroppers.” he announces, casting a privacy charm. 

“probably led by potter.” severus sneers. 

“harry hasn’t left the room he’s in, i’d have known and wouldn’t be here. i’ve got a monitoring charm on the door.” lupin pushes all possibilities of it being harry aside as they move onto the rest of the meeting. 

harry wakes up again for the third time today to someone knocking on the door. he grumbles and turns into the pillow underneath his head, the dark magic comforting him. 

the door opens slowly and he’s glad it’s not someone caked in blistering light magic. “harry?” professor lupin calls into the room. 

“professor lupin?” harry asks quietly, moving to sit up. he yelps when someone else’s hands are suddenly helping him sit up. 

“call me remus, harry. we aren’t in school anymore and i’m not your teacher.” he teases and harry smiles groggily at him. 

“best teacher we’ll ever have.” harry smirks and lupin looks away for a moment, the boy resembling james so much it hurt. “...did i upset you?” harry asks softly and lupin shakes his head quickly with a laugh, bewildered because not even sirius can tell when he’s upset. 

“come on, it’s time for dinner now.” he says, standing up from where he was sitting beside harry. he walks in front of harry, who slowly follows after him and stops at the door, biting his lip. “do you want to go down?” remus asks after a beat of silence. 

“...will you stay with me?” harry asks, not caring how childlike and small he sounds. he keeps his eyes on the ground, fiddling with the end of his sleeves.

“do you want me to?” harry nods slowly and remus smiles calmly at him. “come on then, i’m sure sirius will be over the moon to see you!” he says, gesturing exaggeratedly. harry chuckles at him and follows him down the stairwell, making sure he doesn’t look at any of the walls. 

he generously ignores the one patch of dark magic that pulses against the wall, getting more excited as he nears. 

they stop by the door near the kitchen, molly standing there having just called all the children down. “you hungry, harry?” she asks and harry takes a moment to dim her magic, nodding shakily. 

remus quickly puts his hand back on harry’s elbow to steady him as he catches him before he sways slightly. “you sure you’re alright, harry? gave us quite the turn!” arthur says and harrys happy to note that his magic is a lot more neutral than the rests, not so in your face. 

“harry potter...” he hears as the adult weasleys move apart to reveal sirius standing in the doorway. 

“sirius...” harry smiles weakly, walking gingerly into sirius’ open arms to hug him. 

sirius’ magic is dark, like the underneath of the houses magic. it’s a black trait, he’s supposes. he’s glad he won’t have to hide away from sirius though, the man having dark magic makes it easier to stay around everyone. 

sirius frowns when he feels the boy shivering slightly in his arms. he gives remus a questioning look, furrowing his brows. remus shrugs and moves up behind them, taking harry by the elbow when he pulls away from the hug. 

“you look like you haven’t eaten in days so we better get you something to eat.” remus says, mostly to sirius who nods and sits back down at the head of the table. 

he watches with a calculated eye as remus nudges harry into the seat next to sirius, the one he was sat in earlier and moves to sit on the other side of the boy, smiling encouragingly. 

“it’s rather peculiar, your trial is to be in front of the entire wizengamot!” arthur exclaims as he sits down opposite harry. 

harry nods, not really wanting to hear anything about magic. “are they going to snap my wand?” he asks, not really caring if they do or not because they’ll be eliminating a threat once and for all. 

sirius coughs slightly, choking on his drink at the bluntness of the question. “show him!” moody barks, gesturing for arthur to give him the paper. 

harry crinkles his nose slightly, covering his hands. the magical residue from everyone looks like someone sprinkled salt all over it, more so than the broom did because everyone has had it. the few darker patches do their best to counteract it. harry snorts to himself, it’s like watching ants fight on an anthill. 

‘THE BOY WHO LIES?’ harry smirks to himself silently, he rather prefers this title to the boy-who-lived. maybe now that he’s not on the ministry’s good list, they’ll leave him alone for a while. 

“they’re attacking dumbledore as well. fudge is using all his power and influence to smear anyone who claims the dark lord is back.” sirius explains solemnly, looking at harry with sad eyes. harry nods, confused why it’s such a big deal, as long as the people he cares for believes him, why should he care what the wizarding world think?

“the minister thinks dumbledore is after his job.” remus adds bluntly, taking a swig from his glass. 

“alright.” harry says, pushing the paper away from him. he’s just glad that someone is willing to tell him what’s going on. everyone’s staring at him, waiting for something. if they expect him to blow a fuse, he doesn’t really care enough to. 

“fudge isn’t in the right mind, he’s been warped by terror and fear.” remus inputs, pouring harry a glass of water. “fear makes people do  terrible things, harry.” he knows. he already knows. fear made him a monster. 

“i know.” he doesn’t meet their eyes, ignoring the obviousness of the two marauders exchanging glances. 

“last time voldemort gained power, he almost destroyed everything we held dear. now he’s returned, i’m afraid the minister will do anything to avoid the terrifying truth.” it’s makes sense in hindsight. he’s heard horror stories of the last war. 

“we think voldemort wants to build up his army again.” he looks to sirius who’s glaring at molly, daring her to say anything. “fourteen years ago he had huge numbers at his command, not just witches and wizards but all matter of dark creatures.” harry watches remus tense up out of the corner of his eyes. 

“he’s been recruiting heavily and we’ve been attempting to do the same but, gathering followers isn’t all he’s interested in.” molly coughs loudly but sirius ignores her. “we believe, voldemort may be after something...” he continues. 

“sirius.” moody warns. 

“something he didn’t have last time.” sirius finishes and looks at harry warily. 

“okay.” harry nods, slumping back in his chair slightly. 

“that’s enough, he’s just a boy sirius!” mollys voice makes harrys ears ring and he grits his teeth slightly, inwardly groaning. the last thing he needs right now is to be pushed around by molly weasley. “you say much more and you might as well induct him to the order straight away!” she scolds angrily, ripping the paper away from the space in front of harry. 

“i said it’s okay. you can stop now. i don’t want to hear anymore.” he puts it blatantly, he doesn’t want to hear about voldemort’s plans right now, not when he’s got his own things to deal with. 

“are you sure, harry? that’s nothing like you normally say.” ron pipes up and harrys reminded painfully how they’ve ignored him all summer. 

“did i stutter?” he hisses back at ron who looks away uncomfortably, knowing he’s not in harrys good books. most likely never will be at this point. 

“harry, there’s no need to be so rude!” hermione chides in and harry looks at her distastefully. 

“maybe you should take your own advice once in a while then.” he snaps, moving back to talk to remus who smiles jokingly at him. 

“lovers quarrel.” he whispers and harry slaps his shoulder as remus laughs, mumbling uncomprehendingly under his breath. 

“so harry, i’ve been meaning to ask about the dementors. what exactly did happen?” sirius questions and everyone sits up, attentively to listen. 

harry shifts uncomfortably. he doesn’t exactly remember what happened that night but he knows they took something from him. he doesn’t think this is the best place to mention that though. 

“well, i was at the park and dudleys gang was there. they all ran away until it was just me and my cousin. it was really hot that day so he started accusing me when the storm came. we got to this tunnel and then the dementors came. i cast a patronus and went home. i don’t remember much after that.” he mumbles quickly, uncomfortable with the scenes replaying behind his eyes. the corpses dancing menacingly through his mind. 

sirius nods understandingly, only him and remus able to hear anything the boy said. “i would’ve gotten you sooner if i was allowed.” he says under his breath and harry smiles at him thankfully. 

“when’s the last time you slept dear! you look a right mess!” harry unconsciously smoothes his hair over his face at mollys words. 

“ten minutes ago...” he shrugs timidly. 

“out like a light, weren’t you harry?” remus teases and harry blushes embarrassed as he remembers the scene on the way in. remus snorts and ruffles his hair. 

“you’re thin as a stick child! when’s the last time you ate something?” molly tries again and harry flinches at her words. 

slowly he feels the horrible sludgy texture crawling back up his throat. he doesn’t know why he’s getting so frustrated with her words. he swallows, trying his best to get rid of the feeling. 

“leave the boy be molly! you’re making him uncomfortable.” remus snarls. 

harry raises a hand to his mouth and coughs loudly, the sound horrible in the quiet of the room. he moves his hand quickly back into his sleeve, noticing the blood on his hand again. 

“remus, could you show me to a bathroom, please?” he asks, getting up from his chair swiftly. 

remus frowns concerned at him. “come on, i’ll show you.” he says guiding harry back out of the room. 

harry follows through the maze of a house, walking into the bathroom briskly when remus opens the door, not bothering to shut it as he coughs into the sink, blood finally dislodging from his throat. 

“oh merlin harry! you’re coughing up blood! why didn’t you say anything!” remus panics quickly but harry washes his hands quiet, wiping the blood off his hands and face. 

“i just haven’t had anything to drink lately, it’s been tearing my throat up.” he offers nervously. 

“stay here, i’m going to get you a drink. merlin, harry you need to tell people about these things! you’re going to give me a heart attack, i swear!” remus quickly leaves harry alone to get a drink. 

harry stands there for a moment, tears trickling down his face. what the hell is wrong with him?

remus rushes back into the kitchen, millions of questions spinning through his head. how hadn’t they noticed the boy was this sick? people don’t just cough up blood after a day of not drinking, the boy must not have had a drink in days and must be severely dehydrated. 

he grabs a glass and fills it with water from the sink, ignoring the looks on him. he also puts a few ice cubes from the freezer in, hoping the coldness will sooth the boys throat. 

“where do you keep the healing potions, sirius?” he asks quickly as he shuffles through cupboards. 

“harrys hurt?” hermione bursts, standing up. remus sends her a disgruntled glare, she sure hadn’t cared earlier when harry was at the table. 

“i’ll bring you one now.” sirius says, running out of the room. he makes his way to the storage quickly, heat racing. 

remus briskly makes his way back to the bathroom, shooting anyone who tries to follow him. he finds harry sitting on the closed toilet with his head in his hands. 

“harry, cub...” remus gently places a hand on his shoulder. 

harry looks up, sniffling slightly as he smiles, his eyes puffy and red. remus hands him the cup of water and watches as harry takes little sips. glad he doesn’t have to tell harry to slow down, he sits on the floor in front of him, ignoring the floor being most likely dirty. 

“i’m sorry i keep breaking down like this. it’s been a difficult few days.” he whispers softly, wiping his eyes on the back of his sleeves. 

“it’s okay, i’m glad you aren’t bottling this up.” remus replies, gently placing his hand on harrys knee. 

someone knocks on the door and they both turn to look at sirius. harry blushes embarrassed that more people are seeing him like this. 

“one healing potion for m’lady!” he teases, offering it to harry before resuming his stance, leaning against the doorframe. 

harry uncorks the bottle, drinking the potion quickly and grimacing at the taste. he’s sure there’s some sort of tear in his throat, this will go directly to the source he guesses. 

“why do you need a healing potion?” sirius asks carefully, his eyes flickering across harrys form for any injury. 

“he hasn’t had anything to drink in days, it tore up the inside of his throat and made him cough up blood.” remus informs sirius and harry gives him a horrified look. “don’t look at me like that, this doesn’t happen after one day of not drinking. i’m not surprised you’re so sick. why haven’t you been drinking enough?” he asks softly and sirius leans back into the hallway, whispering angrily for the others to leave them alone. 

“i forgot.” he shrugs and remus sighs, knowing that’ll be the most he’ll get out of him. 

“do you want to stay in my room for now? i doubt being around crowds will be any good for you right now.” remus asks, ignoring the searing gaze sirius gives him. 

“if you don’t mind...” harry offers hesitantly. 

“come on then, i’ll put up some privacy wards so you’re left alone.” remus slowly pulls harrys up, deciding to file away the lightness of the buy for later. 

he leads harry back up the stairs again and into his room. “where are you going to sleep?” harry asks when they get inside the room. 

“i’ll sleep on the couch. i’m not keen on leaving you on your own right now.” remus says, pointing to the couch near the fire place in the room. 

“i don’t want to intrude—“ harry protests but remus is already getting clothes out of his wardrobe and pushing harry into the bathroom. 

“i don’t know where your trunk is right now and i don’t want to deal with meddling teens so you’ll have to wear some of my clothes. go change and wash up.” remus says, handing him the clothes and shutting the door gently. 

he turns to face sirius, facing the mans unreadable glare. “there’s no funny business going on here is there?” sirius asks cautiously. 

“what! sirius, no! where the hell did you get that idea?” remus gasps, offended his friends could come to that conclusion. 

“i just had to be sure. he won’t leave your side and i had to ask incase.” sirius says softly and remus nods understandably, calming down. 

“moony doesn’t want to leave him alone.” remus shrugs, turning to change into his own nightwear. “you’re welcome to stay with us as well...” remus says and sirius nods, grinning at the man. remus chuckles fondly and throws his dirty clothes aside. 

“he’s not telling us something.” sirius concludes, rolling his eyes when remus throws a bundle of clothes his way as well. 

“i know, but i’m not going to pressure him. he’s having a harder time than we thought.” remus says, sighing as he leans back onto the couch. 

“do you think i should give him his own room? away from the others? he doesn’t seem to be on good terms with his friends right now and apparently he doesn’t speak up when he’s uncomfortable if i’ve learnt anything in the past few hours.” sirius says, sighing beside remus and resting his head on his friends shoulder. 

“that might be for the best. i do hope they make up but i’m not sure if they will with harry like he is. we should talk to him about it if it gets worse though.” sirius nods in agreement and closes his eyes with a deep sigh. 

“he goes through too much for his age.” sirius breathes out, his voice less than a whisper. 

“well he’s got us now and i don’t think moony is going to let me leave him alone anymore.” remus concludes. 

the bathroom door opens and harry shuffles out, his clothes in his arms. he blinks tiredly as they both turn to look at him over the couch. “where should i put my clothes?” he asks, looking tiny in remus’ long sleeve shirt and pajama bottoms. 

“just put them on the side, we can get your trunk tomorrow.” remus says and harry nods, moving towards the bed after placing his clothes on the window sill. “go to sleep, harry. you need it.” remus says softly and harry nods again, getting back into the bed he was in earlier. 

he closes his eyes and lets himself fall asleep, safe in the room with dark magic. 

“he looks so peaceful...” sirius whispers before he sighs, transforming into padfoot and curling up on an armchair next to the couch. remus glances at harry once more before laying back into the couch, letting himself drift to sleep. 


	3. Intestine Spaghetti

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t be scared of the title I swear I’ve laughed even tho it’s part of a serious thingy 
> 
> Wow I’m so good at words when I want to be: ‘serious thingy’

harry opens his eyes and finds himself in a dark room. he looks around quickly, trying to feel for the bed he knows he fell asleep on.

the feeling under his hands isn’t the bed. he looks down, wondering why he can see the floor now. he yelps and stands up quickly when he sees the floor. 

the floor is covered in guts and organs, mostly intestines. all stirred up like spaghetti —harry gags at the imagery in his head. 

his breathing picks up as he notices the floor is moving.  moving . organs pulsing like blood still pumps through them. 

he spins around frantically, crying out for someone, anyone. 

he runs forward for what feels like ages and notices with sudden horror that the floor has started to rot underneath his footsteps. 

he hears footsteps further up and turns around again, vertigo swaying over him as the floor disappears again, exchanged for a dark fog. 

“hello?” he calls out. “who’s there?” he cries loudly, screaming for them to reveal themselves. 

he flinches as a breeze flows past the left side of his face, stumbling away as he turns to see where the source is. 

the room flashes with bright light and he winces tumbling back as he covers his eyes. 

he blinks rapidly, focusing until the light dims enough for him to see his surroundings. 

he looks around in confusion, finding himself on privet drive. did he apparate here?

he hesitates before walking towards number four, opening the door with shaking hands. 

“dudkins, theres ice cream in the freezer!” he watches his aunt call out. but it’s not his aunts voice. it’s a deep, inhuman voice that echoes through the house walls like it’s a cave in the depths of the sea. 

he reaches out for her and lets out a sob of despair when his hand goes through her again. 

“aunt petunia! it’s me! look at me!” he cries out. 

he watches in rising terror as the place he touched her slowly turns black, spreading through her body like a disease, her skin rotting away. 

his uncle and cousin enter the room and he screams. they’re both in varying states of rotting, their skin hanging gruesomely off parts of their face and exposed skin. 

he stumbles away, backing into the wall as they all suddenly turn to face him, their necks snapping in unnatural angles. 

their eyes are gone leaving gaping holes in their heads and harry feels like he might vomit. 

“you... you did this!” his aunts inhuman voice screeches. her hair rising like snakes dancing to a flute. 

“i didn’t! i didn’t mean to! please! i’m sorry!” he sobs. 

the worst part is he knows the dursley men can’t speak, their mouths sewn up crudely. 

he looks to find blood on his aunts mangled hands and knows she’s the one who sewed them shut. 

“you’re a  freak! unnatural !” she slowly starts to make her way towards him, creeping on her broken feet like a wild cat stalking its prey. 

“i know! i’m sorry!” he sobs, curling into himself. 

she shoots forward, her hands wrapping around his throat and everything goes black. 

‘ you will be great .’ a voice unfamiliar to him resounds through his head. 

harry shoots up in bed, his hands coming up to scratch her hands away from his throat, his oxygen cut off by hands not there. 

he stumbles out of the bed, making his way towards the bathroom quickly before keeling over and emptying his stomach out into the toilet. 

he sobs as he leans his forehead against his forearm over the toilet, the dream feeling agonisingly real. he claws at his throat with his free hand and slowly the pressure of his aunts rotting fingers fades away. 

he gulps in deep breaths as his empty stomach tries to get everything out. he sobs harsher as he remembers the floor full of intestines and wonders if his are trying to get out of him. 

who’s intestines were they ?

there’s commotion behind him but harrys ears are ringing too badly to realise the door has been blasted open and remus comes running in with his wand, sirius close behind. 

‘ harry ...’

harry shakes the voice out of his head, it sounds too much like his aunts haunting voice. he cries out coughing harder into the toilet. 

“harry...” a voice behind him says. 

“stop...” he begs. 

someone’s hand is on his back and he calms down more when he feels a familiar presence. 

he recognises the hand as remus and cries in relief that he’s not trapped in that horror show in his head anymore. 

“harry.” he nods softly, tears drying on his face. “it’s remus. you’re in grimmauld place.” he whispers to harry softly, rubbing circles onto his back. he breathes heavily, trying to calm himself down from the nightmare. 

slowly he pushes away from the toilet, ignoring the blood filled bowl as he stumbles towards the sink, sirius quick to steady him from falling. 

he quickly washes his face with cold water, covering his face in his hands and inhaling deeply. he shudders slightly, his breathing harsh and rough. 

sirius hands him a towel and he breathes into the towel, forcing himself to force his magic back down, the substance vibrating under his skin. it’s not itchy like light magic but it’s his magic and that makes it dangerous, nasty, wrong. 

he lets himself be guided back into the room, listening to the toilet flush as he’s sat down on the couch by sirius. 

pulling his knees into his chest, he pushes his eyes into his knees, hoping the black dots that dance through his vision will get rid of the nightmare. intestine spaghetti,  honestly ?

sirius wraps and arm around his shoulder, harry turns, burrowing into his godfathers side, his whole body trembling visibly. gently, sirius runs his hands through harrys unruly hair. 

sirius sighs as he looks down at the smaller boy next to him. remus re-enters the room. “i’ll be back now, i’m going to get some potions for him.” remus says, leaving quietly to not wake the others. 

“remus was right when he said you aren’t well at all. i didn’t think it was this bad though. merlin, harry. i wish you’d said something before...” sirius whispers into the boys hair as he pulls him closer. “you don’t have to go through this on your own you know?” harry nods into his side, pulling his knees closer to try and regain heat that he lost on the icy bathroom floor. 

sirius notices this and takes his wand out, flicking it towards the fire place with a quick incendio. harry flinches away, whimpering quietly as the magic enters the room. sirius frowns, rubbing harrys shoulder more firmly. “you’re freezing...” he assesses slowly and accios a blanket from over the top of one of the armchairs, draping it over harry. 

remus silently enters the room again with four potions in hand. sirius raises an eyebrow. “he didn’t eat anything last night. he only threw up stomach acid and blood. his throat was already damaged yesterday.” remus explains as he kneels down in front of the brunet. “harry, can you take these potions for me, i’ve gotten a glass of water for you to help as well.” he coaxes the boy up until he’s staring into harrys haunted eyes. 

“let him take those without us staring remus, it’ll make him uncomfortable.” sirius says and remus nods, placing the potions down on the table in front of harry while he talks to sirius quietly. 

harry quickly takes all four potions: pain relieving, healing, blood replenisher and an anti-nausea potion. he then holds the cup of cold water in between his hands and sips on it between intervals. 

“done, harry?” remus asks and harry nods, keeping his eyes on his hands for any signs of blood that stayed from the guts on the floor. “you want to tell us what that was about?” he asks gently, watching harry uneasily. harry shakes his head, no, he doesn’t quite think he can describe the horrors of his nightmare. 

“...was it voldemort?” sirius asks, ignoring remus’ elbow in his side, he has to know, he has to be sure. 

“i wish it was.” harry whispers, chuckling bitterly. remus and sirius look at each other in concern. 

“what happened?” remus asks again, prying now. 

“it was just a nightmare. couldn’t you hear me screaming?” he asks, looking at them embarrassed. 

“you were screaming? we didn’t hear anything until the bathroom door slammed shut. then we couldn’t open the door and remus had to blast the door off.” sirius furrows his brows and harry glances back to see the door completely off its hinges. 

“i must of accidentally put up a silencing charm or something..” harry mumbles, grimacing at the comfort he gets from the dark magic surrounding the door frame. 

“you can do magic here, you know? the trace doesn’t work in these wards. we just haven’t told the others because that would be a nightmare.” sirius chuckles softly and harry gives him a small smile. 

“i think i’m alright, i don’t want to be any different...” he says, fiddling with the sleeves of remus’ shirt again, a nervous habit he’s apparently picked up. 

“you didn’t realise you put up a privacy charm?” remus asks calculatingly. 

“i don’t have my wand on me. it’s been in my trunk all week.” he admits softly and sirius gasps at him while remus raises an eyebrow. 

“harry, you know how important it is to keep your wand on you!” sirius scolds and harry shrugs with a wrinkled nose. 

“what’s the time anyways?” he asks, glancing around for a clock. 

“around six in the morning.” remus tells him, obviously having passed a clock on the way to the potion stores. 

“i’m so sorry for waking you up!” harry quickly apologises as they snort fondly at him. 

“remus would’ve been up soon anyways, this loser never sleeps!” sirius stage whispers in mock drama. 

“let’s go make breakfast.” harry decides, standing up with the blanket still around his shoulders. he misses both marauders quickly reaching out incase he falls with wide eyes. 

“neither of us can cook...” remus admits, rubbing a hand behind his neck. 

“well i can, so let’s go!” harry whines, pulling sirius up by the sleeve. 

“harry, you’re in no condition to cook!” remus warns but harry pokes a tongue out at him. 

“it’s all out of my system now and you gave me potions. i want to cook anyways!” harry groans and they both catch a spark in his eyes that they’ve never seen before. they nod, wanting to please harry in any way they can and take off after him down the stairs. 

“how do you even know the way? it took me weeks to remember when i got back!” sirius moans at harry as they reach the kitchen. 

“we all have secrets.” harry teases, tapping the side of his nose. 

harry sets to work, pulling ingredients out of the cupboard while sirius stands behind him, watching intensely. remus rolls his eyes at the pair and grabs a book, sitting down to read at the table. 

reaching into the fridge harry grabs the eggs and milk, huffing when he can’t find any flower. he does however find sunflower oil, that he quickly wipes the magical residue from molly off of it. 

“we need flour and chocolate chips...” harry mumbles to himself. 

“chocolate pancakes? we could go to the store...” sirius breathes, stars practically in his eyes as he stares at harry in awe. remus snorts behind his book. 

harry yelps as a house elf pops in, he holds his chest as he surveys the old, grumpy looking thing with droopy ears and a nose longer than snapes. “christ, you scared me...” he mumbles to himself, staring down with wide eyes. 

“that’s kreacher the house elf.” sirius sniffs distastefully and harry chooses to ignore his rude attitude. “what do you want kreacher?” sirius demands, almost growling. remus lowers his book just incase he needs to intervene. 

kreacher stares at harry and it takes harry a moment to realise the elf can probably sense his magic. the elf continues with a searching gaze in his wide eyes, the wrinkles on his forehead not pulled into a frown for once it seems. 

“oh? you heard me?” harry asks surprised, sirius stares at him in confusion as kreacher nods. 

“young master half-blood should not be cooking!” the elf scolds and harry giggles delightedly, remembering dobby saying similar words to him once. 

“i’m sorry for intruding i just wanted to make pancakes!” harry says, beaming at the frightened elf. “do you have any flour or chocolate chips by any chance?” he asks gently, rummaging through the cupboards again. 

“no, we not having any of those.” the elf says, his eyes locked on harrys figure with somewhat loyalty that makes harry disturbed. 

“hey! i saw my trunk on the way down, wait here kreacher!” harry says, jogging into the hall to collect his money pouch from gringotts. he quickly pulls out a few gallons before skilfully locking his trunk and kicking it away with the upturn of his nose. he should see about getting a different trunk soon, and clothes, all covered in some sort of magic residue. 

he re-enters the kitchen to find sirius staring the elf down. he knows sirius hates this house, it’s obvious in the way he ignores any damage done —like the door earlier— so it’s only logical that he hates kreacher, the only link to what he grew up with left. 

he walks over, cupping sirius on the back of the head. the man yelps and looks at him with a childish glare. “here, do you think you can go buy the flour and chocolate chips for me please?” he says, taking the elf’s hand and placing the galleons in it. 

the elf stares at him for a money before nodding and popping out. “he’s stolen your money, harry! i should’ve told you he’s no good!” sirius huffs and harry looks at him unimpressed. 

“he’s gone to get the ingredients sirius! don’t be a prat!” harry chides, turning to find the equipment needed. he finds it all easily as molly seems to have used them recently, all still near the washing up bowl. he raises his hands in annoyance and makes his way over to finish the washing up the woman neglected. 

“harry, you don’t have to do that, it’s part of the cleaning molly has the kids doing.” sirius says and harry shakes him off, knowing the only way to get rid of her disgusting magic residue is to clean it off himself, thoroughly. cooking with magic should be banned, who knows what the residue could be doing to people. he glances over at sirius and remus, taking in their slim figures and decides that even unconsciously they don’t like the taste of magic residue either. 

harrys overjoyed to find a crêpe pan and cheers in triumph before making his way to the stove. “how hungry are you?” he asks them over his shoulder. 

“i could eat a horse.” remus mumbles and harry snickers in surprise. 

while waiting for kreacher to come back —he doesn’t know how, he just knows the house-elf will come back— he starts to make some drinks for them all, choosing coffee over tea because they’re all awake early. 

remus looks up as he slides a cup of coffee down the table to him before smiling thankfully and taking the drink into his free hand to decrease the coldness. harry watches in amusement as sirius adds sugar and milk to his coffee, watching both of them distastefully as they drink their black coffee. 

he eyes the oranges in the fridge before pulling those out to so he can make orange juice for when the pancakes are done. sirius starts to eye him doubtfully but harry narrows his eyes at him and turns to finish the washing up. 

kreacher pops back in with a big bag of flour and chocolate chips. harry cheers, a joyful smile on his face. “thank you kreacher! didn’t have any trouble did you?” he exclaims happily, taking the items to the table from the creature. 

“no, young master half-blood.” kreacher shakes his head, staying a respectful distance away from harry. 

“oh, pish posh! call me harry!” he berates mock sternly, ignoring the protests sirius starts to give. harry washes his hands quickly, scrubbing them with soap before drying them off and moving back to the counter. 

“as you wish, young master harry.” kreacher bows his head and harry sniffs with narrowed eyes. 

“that’s good enough i guess. you can go back to whatever you were doing before now, kreacher. i’ll call you if we need anything.” harry waves his hand dismissively and kreacher pops out to somewhere else in the house. 

the silence in the kitchen makes harry turn to find both adults staring at him, jaw dropped. “what?” he asks self-consciously, looking down to see what they’re gaping at. he’s sure he looks odd in a spare apron —not the one molly uses thank you very much— and a blanket tied around him but still. 

“you’ve met him once and he listens to you like you’re merlin! he never obeys any of us!” sirius squeaks, pouting at remus when he bursts out laughing, regaining his senses after watching the scene. 

“maybe you should be a bit nicer then!” harry points out, pointing the whisk at them as he cracks the egg in the other. 

“wizard!” sirius accuses as he gestures dramatically to harry cracking eggs into a bowl one handed. 

“did you think i was a witch before?” harry asks, a betrayed expression on his face. remus holds his chest as he taps the table, tears building in his eyes from laughing so hard. “yes, i am a wizard. thank you for noticing.” he bows deeply at sirius who chokes illegible words, throwing a coaster at harry who ducks reflexively and throws a pinch of flower at the man. 

“brat.” sirius glowers at him under his breath. 

“sirius come stir this, my weak witch arms aren’t capable!” he says pushing the bowl of eggs, flour, milk, chocolate chips and a tad of sunflower oil towards the older man. 

“as the princess commands!” he shouts in a mock deep, princely voice that has remus spitting out his mouthful of coffee onto the man in a fit of laughter. sirius gasps and looks at remus with betrayal in his eyes, only making the man cough harder through his laughing. 

sirius quickly washes his hands before grabbing the whisk to stir the bowl. 

harry reaches for the juicer as he smacks sirius’ hand away from the chocolate chips. sirius whines and harry hisses at him. the man goes back to stirring but harry sees him staring longingly at the chocolate chips. 

harry quickly puts the orange juice through the filter to get rid of the bits and into the jug he washed out, adding a few ice cubes. he smiles to himself and adds a few slices of orange because it’s  fancy , the way aunt petunia had him make it. 

he turns up the heat and puts down the crêpe pan before briskly oiling it down with a small drip of sunflower oil. he waits until the pan is sizzling and takes the bowl back from sirius, placing a plate to the side to put the pancakes on afterwards. 

slowly a stack of pancakes grows beside him and he smiles to himself as he grabs another clean pan, cooking some bacon on the side. he remembers remus eating it for breakfast a lot of the time when he was a professor, he’s sure the man doesn’t think he knows though. 

he places the bacon on a different plate and turns the hob off while pushing the washing away to finish after they’ve eaten. 

balancing the plates on his arms like he’s seen waiters do when the dursleys have been forced to bring him with them, he walks over to the table, sliding the plates in front of the two men who are sitting side by side. 

“bon appétit!” he teases with a smile before turning back to grab the jug of orange juice. he grabs three plates for them as well and puts them out in front of each of their seats respectively. he then quickly grabs the cutlery and raises an eyebrow when he sees maple syrup next to a cup of sugar and lemons. he shrugs and placed them down on the table as well. kreacher must’ve bought more than he saw, he did think the flour and chocolate chips were a bit expensive but he didn’t think kreacher stole from him, it wouldn’t matter if the elf did but now he’s sure he hasn’t. 

he sits down after grabbing some clean glasses and looks up to see sirius and remus gaping at him. “is something wrong?” he asks, surveying the food for anything that could’ve gone wrong. 

“where on earth did you learn to cook so well?” looking at him aghast, sirius points his knife at harry teasingly. “you’ve been hiding your skills from me!” he accuses and harry blushes at the praise. 

“i cooked at the... dursleys. it’s nothing too fancy.” he shrugs away the sour taste of his relatives names as he pours orange juice into their glasses. 

“i didn’t even see you cook any bacon!” remus says and sirius nods in agreement, looking at the bacon longingly. 

“don’t wait for me to start!” he says and that’s all it takes for them to start piling food into their plates like they haven’t eaten in months. 

sirius bites into his syrup drenched pancakes and moans. remus snorts and elbows his friend in the side. “manners, sirius!” he scolds and harry laughs behind his orange juice. 

“i can’t help it, it’s just too good!” he groans and starts to quickly eat more. 

“don’t eat too fast you’ll get indigestion!” harry hisses at sirius who narrows his eyes in detest. 

“i don’t even care, i need this deliciousness in me now! honestly if molly cooked like you i’d never complain about her attitude again!” sirius sips at his orange juice. “i’ve never even had orange juice and i know this is the best...” he whispers faintly. 

“uh harry, you’re putting syrup on your bacon...” remus says, pointing at harrys plate with his fork. 

“it tastes good.” harry says with a shrug and remus eyes him cautiously before grabbing the syrup, pouring a little onto the side of his plate, away from his bacon. he hesitantly dips a piece of bacon and pancakes in before nodding at harry with a glare. 

“i knew that.” remus says, turning his nose up and causing harry to laugh. 

the kitchen door slams open as sirius is laughing over harry’s retelling of the trip to hogwarts, second year in the ford angela. he high-fives harry under remus’ unimpressed glare making them laugh harder. 

harry tenses when the room is invaded by light magic and he wrinkles his nose distastefully. sirius glances at him confused before snorting when he realises it’s because molly is entering the kitchen, arthur and the kids not far behind her. 

harry inwardly groans because he was enjoying his time with remus and sirius, happily listening to the stories about pranks the marauders pulled or stories about james running after lily. honestly, he’s getting sick of them ruining his moments. 

shifting uncomfortably, harry looks down at his plate, the smile gone from his face. sirius and remus exchange a disgruntled glance before glaring at the intruders. it was a serene moment with just the three of them, naturally domestic and familial in a way that’ll never happen with how rowdy the weasleys and hermione are. 

mollys eyes lock in on the piles of food still left in the middle of the trio and she gasps offendedly. “couldn’t you have waited for me to come and cook breakfast before attempting to! look at the mess my kitchen is in!” she hisses as the children slowly sit down on the other end of the table, the twins closest to harry while still far away enough that it won’t upset their mother. they look apologetically at harry who doesn’t meet their eyes, flinching away from the woman’s ear-splitting voice. 

“actually, you’re forgetting it’s my kitchen, molly. i don’t have to do anything for you in my own house, letting you stay here is generous enough!” sirius snarls, ignoring the surprise that passes through the weasleys eyes, not used to him standing up for himself. 

“if harrys sick he shouldn’t be attempting to eat anything you two cook! we all know you can’t cook for the life of you! if the state of the kitchen is anything, the poor boy probably has food poisoning.” molly frets and harry scoots away from her hands when they try to touch him. 

he stands up and makes his way over to the dirty dishes, filling the bowl with hot water and getting the dish water so he can avoid confrontation. 

“harry dear, leave it now! i won’t have you cleaning up after these to anymore!” she scolds and harry looks up at her with no expression and a piercing gaze. 

“actually i’m the one who cooked.” he says and the twins wince in realisation. he continues to ignore mollys blustering and starts to wash the dishes manually. 

“so you have the boy cooking for you like a common house-elf now, do you? shame on you!” she hisses and harry turns to look at her sharply. 

“they didn’t make me do anything. this isn’t the dursleys mrs weasley!” he hisses dangerously and she flinches back from his words. he sighs tiredly and turns back to the sink. “if you want anything to eat, you’re welcome to help yourselves. the food still warm.” he says and the marauders push the plates of food way from them to the twins who smile gratefully. the marauders, done with their food start to help pick up the left over plates and remus joins harry by the sink while sirius helps drying them, putting them away afterwards. 

molly stands there stunned as her children start to help themselves to the food harry made. “amazing as always dear harrikins!” george calls over and harry grins at them over his shoulder. 

“always? harrys never cooked us anything?” ron questions stupidly. harry snorts and mumbles to himself about how it wouldn’t make it to oven with him around. remus snorts to himself having heard the words and tries to swiftly cover it up with a cough. 

“harrys made us a birthday cake every year since second when we showed him the kitchen!” fred explains, generously pouring syrup over his plate. 

“the older years love it! harry made us promise not to tell them who made it though because he’s no fun!” george teases, ignoring the looks exchanged by the youngest three. 

“want any pancakes with your syrup fred?” harry calls out to break the rising tension. 

“i’m not fred! he is!” he says pointing to george. 

“that trick doesn’t work on me!” he cheers and the twins groan, their tricks not working once again. 

“you ruin our fun harrikins!” george sniffs, fake crying into his orange juice. harry rolls his eyes and finishes the last dish. 

“come on harry, i’ll show you around!” sirius says, grabbing harrys shoulder after putting away the last of the utensils. 

“i’m sure ron or hermione can do that! harry should be with his friends!” molly breaks out of her stupor, glaring at arthur for help who shrugs with a mouth full of pancake, grinning sheepishly. 

“i’m sure they can but, i want to spend time with my godson. farewell!” he calls over his shoulder and he swoops harry into his arms, running from the room with remus running after them, telling them to slow down. 

when they’re far enough away from the kitchen for sirius, harry is placed down and sirius pants exaggeratedly. 

“merlin i need to exercise more! my bones are breaking underneath your weight!” he mocks, throwing hand to his head and falling against remus who yelps and catches him quickly. 

“you’re just old!” harry teases before running off into the maze of a house. 

“why you little!” sirius starts running after him. 

remus groans loudly, considering going back to the kitchen before wincing and running after the duo, calling for them to slow down or they’ll fall. 

after the weasleys had eaten breakfast molly ordered for everyone to start housecleaning, protesting harry shouldn’t be treated differently and should also help. 

“he was throwing up all morning molly! he shouldn’t be around cleaning chemicals or other teenagers for that matter incase they get sick!” sirius protests, remus standing protectively behind harry who’s slowly backing away from mollys screeching. 

“he looks fine to me! he was eating just this morning with the pair of you! you need to stop this ridiculous selfishness and let harry spend quality time with other people!” molly bellows and sirius clenches his fists tightly, his morals on never hitting a woman wavering. 

“blood, molly! harry was vomiting blood for a good half an hour and he hadn’t eaten anything yesterday! i’m not being selfish, i’m looking after my godson!” sirius argues back, harry curling into remus as this mornings events are brought up. remus soothingly rubs his back, glaring at molly over harrys downward facing head. 

“don’t be ridiculous sirius! you’re exaggerating unnecessarily! stop pestering the poor boy and go help clean!” she snaps back and sirius slowly reaches for his wand. 

harry grabs sirius’ wrist, shaking his head at his godfathers questioning gaze. “leave it padfoot, it’s not worth it.” he says and sirius gaze softens. 

“goddamnit, harry! it is worth it if this is going to make you worse. how can you stand there and listen to her tell me you’re just exaggerating!” sirius cries, frustration showing through his anger. 

“come on. let’s go clean.” harry mumbles, pulling sirius forcefully away from molly, not giving the woman a spare glance as they follow the twins into the room they’ll be cleaning. 

they get into the drawing room and harry gags when he sees the twins using cleaning spells against the walls, the light magic spreading like veins over the natural wispy darkness. 

“kreacher.” he calls, putting his sleeve over his mouth to stop any residue getting into his throat, coughing up blood is more painful than it looks. 

kreacher audibly pops in and everyone turns with wide eyes as harry crouches in front of the elf. “please can you get me a bottle of normal wall cleaner and a rag?” he asks, his eyes blurring from the light. 

kreacher nods and pops out, popping back in just as quickly to hand harry the cleaning supplies. “nasty blood traitors be defiling the most ancient and noble house of black!” he whispers lowly. harry nods in agreement, grimacing at the walls. 

“i’ll fix it best i can.” harry confides. kreachers eyes widen and he grins nastily before popping out. “i’m going to clean the hallway.” harry announces as he stands up. 

“we’ve already put cleaning charms down there.” molly says and harry looks at the dusty window sill where she supposedly just cast a cleaning charm. 

“i don’t trust your cleaning skills.” he cringes and walks out of the room to the entryway. molly splutters behind while the marauders and twins laugh under their breaths. 

“do you want any help harry?” remus asks and harry shakes his head in negative before moving further into the corridor. 

he quickly sprays the wall with the cleaner, scrubbing the light magic out harshly with the rag. he recoils away from the light residue, gagging as he finds a larger patch that he quickly sets to work on. 

“boy.” someone says and harry turns to see one of the portraits staring at him. he glances down and sees all the portraits watching him curiously. “what are you doing?” the bearded man asks lowly, his voice hiding any spare emotions. 

“cleaning...” harry says with furrowed eyebrows, raising the rag in his hand to show the man. 

all the portraits here are pulsing with rich wispy dark magic, some that harry had noticed yesterday. they don’t feel threatening so he doesn’t see what harm talking to them can do. 

“they cast cleaning charms here weeks ago. it’s pointless cleaning somewhere they’ve already done.” the man tells him and harry nods. 

“i know.” he mumbles, staring at the wall with disgust. 

“then why are you cleaning it again?” the man asks curiously, the the portraits leaning in to listen. 

“i don’t like how bright it is.” he says with a shrug, not sure how to explain the horrible residue that’s plastered in the walls. the man stares at him calculatingly, “my eyes are just fine.” he snaps, turning back to roughly scrape at the magic. 

“you collapsed here yesterday. it is not bright for us so why is it bright for you?” he needles. 

“wish i knew. it would make things a lot easier.” he huffs, moving further towards the portraits. harry glances at the mans nameplate. “phineas nigellus black, huh? aren’t you in the headmasters office?” he asks conversationally. 

“indeed i am, its curious you’ve noticed such a thing.” the man comments and harry eyes the woman further down whos frame is pulsing frantically as he nears. 

“it’s not that curious. i’ve spent a lot of time in his office: after saving the philosophers stone from quirrell first year. second year, rescuing ginny weasley from the basilisk. third year after helping sirius escape. fourth year when i was portkeyed to help resurrect voldemort by a death eater, cedric diggory died and professor moody turned out to be barty crouch jr under polyjuice. he was a good teacher, sucks he got the dementors kiss honestly.” harry talks as he brushes away the rest of the light magic residue, unaware of the glances being thrown around above his head. 

“basilisk, you said?” the man pries but harrys fine with it, he never gets to tell anyone about this stuff. 

“the chamber of secrets was opened by some memory of sixteen year old voldemort, tom riddle. he was possessing ginny weasley through his diary and using her to set the basilisk on muggleborns. at the end of the year he tried to steal her soul to revive himself but me being harry fucking potter gives me the worst luck. as i’m the only parselmouth around i was forced to go save her. i killed the basilisk after it bit me and the phoenix saved me from dying due to its venom.” harry expands on second year to the hallway. harry likes to indulge. 

harry raises his head when all the portraits start to get more excited, whispering between each other as they glance nervously at him, some of the ladies even blushing. 

“parselmouth, you say?” phineas asks, his eyes glittering in wonder. 

“yeah, something about voldemort transferring his powers to me when i survived the killing curse.” harry shrugs, reaching up to get rid of a higher patch. 

“you survived the killing curse?” the man gasps and harry nods, turning to show his scar. 

“left a nasty scar though. the only thing connecting me to old tommy.” harry sighs, standing with his hands on his hips as he stares at the now clean wall. 

“i think things are going to get a little more interesting with you around, harry potter.” the man whispers cheerfully. 

“i’m not counting on it.” harry grunts. 

“you rescued sirius?” the woman down the hall asks and the portraits fall silent. 

“mhm, there was hundreds of dementors but i passed out as someone cast a patronus. turns out i used a time turner and cast the patronus, then we rode one of the hippogriffs that was to be executed to him and broke him out of the tower.” he shrugs nonchalantly, not knowing how impressive this sounds to outside sources. 

“a patronus at thirteen... youre one powerful wizard, harry potter.” phineas says and harry grimaces distastefully, the image of corpses popping up. 

“you don’t know that half of it...” he whispers, picking up his cleaning supplies. 

molly comes bustling out of the room and glances down the hall with a scowl. “satisfied it’s clean now? have you fixed my untrustworthy cleaning charms?” the woman retorts with a scathed remark to harrys earlier words. 

“i am.” harry nods, brushing past her obnoxious presence to find sirius or remus. the portraits following his retreating figure with fascination. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remus and Sirius: *good parenting noises*
> 
> Harry: *house-elf noises*


	4. The Library

harry sits quietly in the sitting room, letting himself think over the hectic past few days.

sirius and remus have been more than he expected. he hadn’t thought anyone besides... well, nobody would care about him. the others only care when it gets in the way of their plans. he’s never had anyone look after him, especially not the way they are. 

molly weasley is also another thing. he doesn’t know why but everything about her repulses him lately. he used to believe the weasleys to be family but... whatever happened the night of august 2nd, whatever the dementors took from him is helping him, he may be sick now but he knows it’s fixing him. 

it’s why he hasn’t panicked, for whatever reason the blood he’s coughing up feels poisoned, like his magic is pushing it out of his system to save him. he’s always trusted his instincts and whatever the dementors took from him has weakened him before strengthening him. 

he knows he should be panicking but chucking up blood is the least of his worries at the moment. he does, however, have to find out how his magic resurrected someone or multiple people. 

it guilts him more than he’d like, not because the dursleys aren’t fully alive anymore, but because this means he could’ve saved others —or thats the way his mind puts it at least. he knows he couldn’t of saved cedric because his magic couldn’t of done this before august but he’s been putting himself down anyways. 

he can’t make sense of his nightmare either, never in his life has he ever had a horror dream like that. he prays it’ll be the last one as well but he holds no hopes.

real. the nightmare felt too real to be a full dream but it had a sense of foreboding like it was about to happen. harry brushes off the thought of it being like the visions voldemort sent him last year because it was his own, he knew it. if it is a vision, harry doesn’t know if he can prevent it. 

the guts on the floor. harry can’t think of a single thing that they could symbolise but he’s slowly come to realise that it wasn’t the worst part. the worst part was, something else was with him there. 

something was breathing on him. 

it had taken him a few hours to recognise what the breeze was and even longer to realise the breathing hadn’t stopped through the whole thing, he’d just gotten used to it.  that was a terrifying thought. 

“what’s got you thinking so hard pup?” sirius asks as he enters the room, gently shutting the door behind him. “you can tell me anything, you know that, right?” sirius ruffles his hair, frowning at the haunted look on his face. 

“anything...?” harry repeats slowly, debating on what he can tell sirius. noticing, a pulse of dark magic had entered the room and harry knew it was the woman’s portrait. 

“what’s troubling you?” the older asks as he sits down next to harry. 

“this morning, my nightmare.” he whispers and sirius nods encouragingly. “i don’t think i was alone and it wasn’t voldemort.” he chokes and sirius tenses up, his hand tightening on harrys shoulder. 

“harry, what do you mean?” sirius slowly pries, his face pale and shaky. 

“nevermind i’m probably just overthinking it.” harry smiles shakily and he’s glad that the door takes that moment to open, remus telling them to come get lunch.

“what’s the matter with you?” harry hears remus asking sirius behind him. 

“don’t worry, harry just said something that spooked me is all, it’s alright now.” sirius says, his face regaining some colour. 

“if you’re sure, but if you get sick on me as well i won’t be pleased!” remus chides and harry laughs behind his hand. remus gasps and cuffs him on the head, muttering about children and not being cut out for this job, only succeeding in making harry laugh harder. 

harry gives remus a look when they find the kitchen empty, obviously here before the other weasleys as there’s no washing in the sink. remus shrugs sheepishly, whistling innocently as he clasps his hands behind his back and rocking on the heels of his feet. 

“you’re both too sly to be gryffindors honestly!” harry throws his hands up as sirius laughs behind them and makes his way towards the table. “what do you want to eat?” he asks as he opens the fridge. 

“i’ll have whatever you make.” sirius swoons and remus sighs to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose as he sits opposite sirius. 

“chicken sandwiches?” harry asks and laughs as remus practically drools. “down boy!” he teases and remus glares at him. “kreacher!” harry calls joyfully as he pulls out a loaf of fresh bread from the bread bin. 

“young master harry be calling me?” the elf asks, looking a little healthier than he did yesterday. maybe he’s connected to the house magic as well. 

“can you grab some chicken for me please?” he asks, pulling a few galleons out of his pocket again. kreacher nods happily and pops out. 

“maybe you are merlin reincarnated?” sirius jests and remus throws his book at sirius’ chest making the man gasp in pain, rubbing his chest as he glares at the scarred man. 

kreacher pops back in and harry takes the already cooked chicken from him. “perfect. thanks again kreacher!” harry says, smiling. 

harry quickly makes the sandwiches and plates them up, grabbing some pumpkin juice from the fridge with only a small grimace. 

hedwig flies in and harry frowns slightly, wondering what took her so long to get here. he passes her a piece of chicken as he takes the paper from her. the prophet?

harry furrows his eyebrows, narrowing his eyes at hedwig. “what’s wrong?” remus asks, glancing between harry and hedwig. 

“i don’t have a prophet subscription...” he says, gently picking up hedwigs feet to search for any magic residue. “why’d your bring me the prophet girl? you know i don’t care about skeeters crap.” he asks and to his surprise hedwig grabs the paper in her foot, pulling the paper so it’s face up. “oh... i see.” harry whispers as he stares at the front of the newspaper. 

‘MASS ESCAPE FROM AZKABAN!” the headline blares. 

remus snatches the paper out of harrys hand and gasps. “this is going to be a problem...” sirius blinks at the paper before standing up and walking out of the room swiftly. 

“an order meeting has been scheduled for tomorrow.” sirius tells them when he re-enters the room a few minutes later. 

harry makes his way back to cleaning after lunch, more than happy to ignore the weasleys for now. he grabs his cleaning supplies and makes his way to the drawing room, eyeing the tapestry on the wall. 

“harry potter, you’re very eager to clean...” harry turns to the wall opposite the tapestry that’s full of portrait frames, obviously for them to travel through the house. 

“well someone needs to fix what they’ve done.” harry says, wrinkling his nose when he finds they’ve shot light magic at the tapestry. 

“fix what exactly?” phineas asks, the familiar woman silent at his side. he raises his eyebrow at them before picking up a cleaner safe for the tapestry that kreacher had popped in for him. 

“hasn’t kreacher told you? they’re defiling the house.” the man squints at him with a searching gaze and the woman next to him smirks slightly. 

“but you’re a half-blood aren’t you?” harry nods to the woman’s question, wondering what blood status has to do with it. 

“blood status has nothing to do with it.” harry says and the portraits pulse violently in confusion. 

“stop speaking in riddles boy. tell us what you mean!” phineas demands, glaring with a sharp gaze. 

“how do i know you won’t run to dumbledore?” harry hisses back and the man gives him an impressed look. 

“smart, you’re worried for your own safety. i swear on my word.” the beared man says and his frame erupts with magic suddenly. harry winces slightly as the magic approaches him but his mind blanks as the dark blue wisps curl around his wrist. he blinks rapidly. 

“okay, i believe you.” he grunts, the mans magic screaming that he’ll keep his word. 

“how do you know i’m not lying?” phineas pries again. 

“that doesn’t matter right now.” harry waves his hand dismissively moving his wrist in a circular motion as the magic slowly seeps into his wrist. 

“...you don’t know how you know?” an elderly woman asks from one of the other frames. 

“i don’t think i want to know. anyways, kreacher isn’t on about their blood status when he says they’re defiling the house.” harry offers, his magic vibrating underneath the skin of his wrist, tugging on the magic with the feeling of childlike excitement. 

“how are they defiling the house then?” phineas asks testily, growing agitated with not getting the right answers. 

“they’re infecting the houses magic. that’s why i clean the places they threw up charms, their charms are like poison to this house and it’ll start rotting in no time if i don’t get it out.” harry confides, hoping that no one is listening in on him. thinking on that, he stands quickly and checks the hallway for anyone before shutting the door again. 

the portraits are quiet now, mulling over the information. harry traces the family tree, stopping at the blasted spaces. “why are these people burnt off?” harry asks over his shoulder, gently brushing over the burnt spot. 

“they were disowned.” harry hums and follows the line of cygnus black, shopping when he comes to a recently familiar name. 

“bellatrix lestrange...” harry whispers, the name ringing in his head. 

“she was my niece.” the quiet woman says from behind him. he turns to face her briefly. 

“she escaped from azkaban today, with her husband and many others.” harry tells them, not sure if they saw the newspaper from earlier. harry follows walburga black and stops when he reaches sirius. “huh... i wonder who walburga black is.” he mumbles under his breath. 

“sirius ran off to live with the light wizards.” phineas says with a snort. harry wrinkles his nose in distaste even though he knows those light wizards are his parents. 

“it doesn’t matter if he chose the light, he’ll never stop being a dark wizard.” harry announces into the silence of the room, knowing he’s right in the aspect. “i wonder what voldemort will do with all his followers. you can’t be insane if you want to win a war.” he grumbles to himself. 

“i don’t understand.” phineas says and harry turns to him questionably. “they say you’re their saviour, the one who will defeat the dark lord. yet, you don’t seem very bothered about the azkaban break out....” the man observes. 

“it doesn’t bother me, not really. i’ve been running from things all my life, i doubt this will be any different.” harry traces one of the names connected to bellatrix’s. “why did this andromeda person get blown off?” he probes. 

“ran off to marry a muggleborn.” the woman says distastefully. harry never has understood the whole blood rivalry. 

“why is blood status so important?” he asks gently, turning around to sit cross legged, facing the portraits. “i know it’s important but no ones ever told me why. all i know is purebloods hate muggleborns. hermione never shuts up about it.” he explains, leaning against the tapestry. 

“they’re getting rid of our culture. they come here and think they deserve better. they infiltrate the ministry and demand new laws. they replace samhain with halloween and yule with christmas! they disgrace us as if we are beneath them and the old ways are dying out in their wake.” phineas informs him, distaste evident in their voice. 

“that makes sense i guess. it’s like christians, they’d go mad if easter was cancelled or christmas was changed. okay, thanks for explaining. i understand now.” harry nods to himself, the information rolling through his head. it does make more sense than the reasoning hermoine comes up with. 

harry jumps when someone cold pressed against his neck. he moves quickly and turns to find padfoot nosing his neck. he smiles with furrowed brows, noticing the wispy magic around the dog is black instead of dark blue. “maybe it’s different for animagus...” he wonders to himself. 

he looks up to find the portraits vacated again. he tilts his head slightly, running his hands through padfoots fur, the walls look different. 

he frowns deeper, standing up to reach for the wall. he rethinks touching it as it warps slightly in front of him, thin ripples making the wall moving ever so slightly. 

he keeps his hand on padfoot, stepping further back when the wall slowly starts to change colour, not noticeably, but it’s happening. 

he sits down again, scooting back next to padfoot, clenching his hand in his godfathers scruff. 

someone’s hand clamps onto his shoulder, jumping, he turns to see remus looking at him with furrowed brows. “remus, hey. need something?” he asks softly, his fingers unconsciously loosening in padfoots fur. 

“dinners ready... we’ve been looking for you for ages! we didn’t see you in here earlier!” he says worriedly. 

“sorry for worrying you, i was just cleaning.” harry says, standing up and to brush of his trousers. 

“come on then, you know how molly is and with the breakout this morning, well...” remus winces to himself as he makes his way to the door and harry laughs. 

he gives the room one last look and glares slightly at the walls. it must’ve been his eyes playing tricks on him for staring too long. he ruffles padfoot head one more time and heads for the door. “come on padfoot.” he says with a grin before turning to look into the hallway. 

halting, harry looks further down the hall to see sirius waiting for them nervously. harry frowns, padfoot definitely wasn’t in front of him. he quickly looks back into the room but doesn’t see anything there. 

“something wrong? that is a pretty ghastly room...” sirius says and harry takes in his wispy dark blue magic with curiosity. it must change with the person to animal. 

harry shakes his head slowly, keeping his eyes on the doorway as sirius pulls him away by his shoulder. 

it might just be a trick of the light, but he’s pretty sure there was black dog in the doorway. he blinks and it’s gone. brushing it off as his imagination, he follows them into the kitchen. 

maybe sirius just passed him quickly. that’s probably it. 

harry, obliviously passes over the fact that it was definitely a grim. 

harry enters the kitchen behind sirius, coming up with every explanation he can for the walls changing colour. 

sitting next to remus, he taps his fingers on the table agitatedly. he’s never had that happen before, neither with or without his glasses —which he has been for the past few days. maybe he just got enough dirt off the wall that it actually did start to change colour. 

a thought suddenly hits him and harrys eyes widen as he looks over to remus. “what do you mean you didn’t see me in the drawing room?” he asks under his breath, remus turns to him, looking him over carefully. 

“we thought you’d left, you weren’t in any of the rooms and we checkedthem all twice. we were checking again and you were hidden away in the drawing room apparently where we couldn’t see you.” remus tells him, pouring pumpkin juice into his glass. 

“i was sat in the middle of the room the whole time though?” harry asks, more-so to himself. “how long has it been since we had lunch?” frantically, he looks around for a clock. it was only around one in the evening when he went into the room and he’s sure he hasn’t been in there for over an hour, but remus said it’s dinner. 

“it’s seven. are you sure you’re alright?” remus asks, putting the back of his hand to harry’s forehead. 

“it has not been six hours!” harry panics. “i must’ve passed out or something...” harry decides thats the explanation but knows he definitely hasn’t gone to sleep. 

“you know, it’s rude to hide from people.” he hears and looks up to find hermione staring at him harshly. 

“sitting in the middle of a room isn’t exactly hiding. what have you been doing all summer anyways?” he sasses back and she narrows her eyes at him. “hiding.” he smiles innocently at her and sirius snorts into his glass of wine impolitely. 

“we needed to stay safe!” she argues and harry stares at her, wrinkling his nose at the light magic surrounding her. 

“so did i and look where that got me: a dementor attack at my own house.” harry hisses nastily at her, ignoring his magic as it tries to push through his skin towards her. 

“yes, but that doesn’t give you the right to hide from us!” she retaliates and her sneers at her. 

“i’m the one hiding now, am i? nothing, no letters, no indication you were alive. you left me alone all summer to deal with my grief!” he snarls and she has the audacity to look offended. 

“it was dumbledores orders! anyone could’ve been reading our letters!” she offers weakly, knowing she won’t win the confrontation. 

“like me, you were raised in the muggle world, were you not? then you should know there’s such thing as a telephone. you didn’t need to write anything about voldemort in the letters either! you could’ve said anything because what death eaters is going to care about what summer homework you have or what cake you ate for dessert! i thought you of all people were smarter than that.” he finishes, his tone letting no objections through. there’s tears in her eyes and he huffs, slouching back into his seat, frustrated that she’s playing the victim card. 

“you shouldn’t bottle things up harry!” molly scolds. 

“and who would i have talked to?” he snaps coldly at her. 

“you could’ve sent a letter to any of us!” she tries again and ultimately sees her mistake. 

“i did. no one replied.” he shrugs uncaringly, wanting them all to stop prying into his life like they’re his parents. 

remus puts a hand on his arm, gently patting him. harry takes a deep inhale before offering remus a smile, apparently one that was too convincing because he watches unreadable emotions pass through his eyes and he hopes that isn’t pity. 

“alright kids, you can work it out later! eat up now!” molly diverts, using her wand to place down a plate in front of everyone. 

harry looks down at his plate and immediately regrets it. 

spaghetti. 

the food shifts in front of his eyes until instead of pasta it’s rolls of intestines, pulsing in the bowl like it did in the floor. harrys breath catches in his throat and he can’t breathe suddenly. 

remus looks over when the air fills with the stench of fear. his eyes track harrys shaking hands as the boy hides them under the table. he looks to sirius and flicks his head to harry, the boy starring at his hands intently as he fiddles with his sleeves. 

“aren’t those professor lupins clothes, harry?” ginny suddenly pipes up and harrys neck snaps up on alert, looking down at the younger girl. 

“we couldn’t find my trunk yesterday and i haven’t bothered to change today. you know what, that’s a good idea. i’m going to change.” harry rambles as he pushes away from the table abruptly. 

“you should eat first, dear!” molly admonishes. 

“my throat hurts from the chemicals i don’t think i’ll be able to eat any of it, thank you anyways mrs weasley.” he calls over his shoulder, stalking out of the room and grabbing his trunk in one hand, quickly running up the stairs to remus’ room so he can change. 

he slams the door shut behind him, panting heavily as he tries to shake the image of rotting intestines out of his head. he opens his trunk clumsily, digging through his clothes for something clean to wear. he really does need to go shopping soon, especially if he’s going to be expelled. 

he changes into some clean clothes, folding remus’ clothes and placing them on the couch for the older man. 

he leans against the door, tugging his hair tightly as he slides to the floor, curling into himself, aunt petunias inhuman voice ringing loudly through his ears. 

what do the intestines even stand for? he really needs to find a book on symbolism. 

he faintly remembers the two marauders coming into the room, one of them picking harry’s unconscious body up and putting him in the bed. they both got ready as quietly as they could and went to sleep on the couches. 

harry keeps his eyes glued to the ceiling, fully awake at some stupid early hour in the morning. he focuses as hard as possible, trying to recreate the scene from earlier in the drawing room. 

he must’ve been in a trance of sorts and his imagination must’ve acted out. it’s probably from all the blood loss. 

as hes about to fall asleep a burst of magic erupts silently right next to the side of the bed and he gasps, sitting up quickly only to find kreacher staring at him with wide eyes. 

“...kreacher?” he asks groggily, rubbing his eyes to fully open them and get rid of the sleep. 

“young master harry bes coming with me.” kreacher whispers and harry balances out his options before shrugging and standing up beside the house-elf. 

“where are we going?” he asks quietly, his voice seemingly drifting through the walls. 

“mistress black told me i must show you the door!” kreacher excitedly tells him before grabbing harrys hand and waddling towards the door to remus’ room. 

harry stumbles after the elf and into the hallway, following kreacher through the winding maze of the house before they stop at a blank, boring-looking, black door. 

harry winces as he hears some of the weasleys on the floor beneath them, sounding like ron and hermione arguing. kreacher glares at the floor before grinning wickedly at harry, gesturing to the door. 

“only those who be worthy can open the door!” he exclaims and harry quickly shushes him as he hears molly walking on the landing underneath them. 

“and you think i’m worthy?” harry asks doubtfully, eyeing the door. “can’t any of the others open it?” he asks, glancing over the banister quickly. 

“mistress black be thinking you worthy! kreacher lives to serve house black! no blood traitors or mudbloods can open the door!” kreacher sniffs haughtily and harry inwardly snorts at the comparison to malfoy. 

“alright...” harry says with a shrug, grabbing the door handle and twisting it until he hears the lock lick open. he opens the door and walks inside, ushering kreacher in when footsteps start making their way up the stairs and he shuts them in quickly, twisting the lock just incase. “are you sure they can’t get in here?” he asks a gaping kreacher who nods dumbly. 

“kreacher be apologising for doubting young master harry’s worthiness!” he squeals and harry laughs softly, turning to take a look around the room. 

“woah...” he breathes, taking in the moonlit room. 

the walls of the room are covered in a dome of bookshelves, rows of books reaching the ceiling. harry looks up, gaping at how high the ceiling is even though he’s sure they’re in the attack and some enhancement charms must’ve been involved. 

he slowly walks towards the little sitting area with three dark green armchairs and a little coffee table. he brushes the dust off of the chairs and looks over to see another door near the edge of the book dome. 

he opens the door and gapes when he finds a magestic bathroom that could rival the prefects bathroom in all honesty. he snorts to himself when he finds two glass doors opposite the bath, covered in dark magic to conceal the inside. he opens the door, giggling happily when he steps out onto a balcony that faces the garden, the stars all visible to him now. 

“i love it here!” harry squeals as he shuts the windows, walking back into the library to find kreacher waiting for him. “thank you so much for showing me this room kreacher!” he thanks joyfully. 

“kreacher lives to serve master harry.” kreacher bows deeply before popping out of the room. 

harry sighs as he stares at the door, not finding himself wanting to go to sleep and instead he starts to look through the books. 

he grabs a book on divination symbolism and takes a seat on one of the now-dust-free armchairs, sighing gratefully when there’s a tray set up on the table with tea, obviously from kreacher. he really does need to get a start on his homework. 

‘ intestines: 

to dream of intestines usually signifies you will be visited by a grave calamity that will take a friend. intestines signify negativity or issues you wish to stay unspoken. 

it may reflect self-acceptance or self-reflection. you are “letting it all out.”

to dream of eating your own intestines means you are reliving an experience you don’t want to talk about or have neglected to notice at all. you are reliving situations that can bring embarrassment, uncomfortableness and fear. you may feel disgusted by what you are doing. 

usually, they are a sign of danger or crisis in the near future. 

they may also appear when your body is too nervous . ‘

an experience you don’t want to talk about indeed. it may also be the danger and crisis part or the grave calamity considering voldemort is back. but then again, he may be able to handle voldemort with his freaky new powers. he’ll just have to see how it goes. 

“there was an order meeting yesterday, was there not severus?” voldemort —tom riddle— asks from the head of the table. his snake-like features having been exchanged for his much more youthful look. actually having a nose makes him feel so much better. 

“there was, my lord. it did prove... eventful for lack of other words.” the potions master says, surveying the table of death eaters. to his immediate right is lucius malfoy who is on the dark lords right. the table was then scattered with a mix of other death eaters: corvus lestrange, evan rosier, quinton nott, peter pettigrew, walden macnair, julius avery, corban yaxley, the elder crabbe and goyle to name a few. 

the recently broken out of azkaban are absent, all in various states of insanity, tom needs to help bring them back to normal before they’re any use. 

“do tell us more...” tom purrs, blatantly ignoring the blush that rises on some of his younger followers faces and the teasing smirk that corvus wears. 

“they brought potter to headquarters after the dementor attack and everything went seemingly smooth on their trip. molly weasley returned to the kitchen in a sour mood and the werewolf gave us more insight as to why when he arrived. potter had collapsed in the hallway and none of the aurors had noticed. he also doesn’t need his glasses anymore but it seems the hallway was too bright hence the collapsing and potter wouldn’t remove his hands from his eyes. he seemingly stayed away from the weasleys in preference for the wolf. black tried to get them to indulge potter and tell him about the prophecy. i didn’t personally see potter but i scanned through the wolf’s surface thoughts and potter does look very similar to a corpse at the moment.” severus divulges, ignoring how the dark lords gaze gets gradually more intense and uncomforting. 

“has the boy been physically injured or cursed?” the dark lord asks casually, sipping his red wine alluringly. 

“not that i know of, my lord. there is, however, another meeting tomorrow due to the azkaban breakout and i will search for more insight on the matter then.” severus dismisses himself formally and the dark lord nods in acceptance, content with the extent of information. 

“lucius, what can you tell me about the dementor attack on harry potter?” tom asks patiently, nagini slithering onto his lap for warmth, hissing complainingly about lack of mice. 

“it’s said there was two dementors from unknown origins. potters trial is on the twelfth under the claims of breaching the statute of secrecy and performing magic in front of a muggle.” lucius discloses, the dark lord humming in thought at his words. 

tom furrows his brow slightly. “the dementor attack, it wouldn’t of happened to have been on monday,august second, would it?” severus tunes in more, wanting to know how his lord is aware of when it happened. 

“it was, my lord.” lucius confirms, nodding to the dark lord. 

“rather curious...” tom whispers to himself. nagini perks up happily when an elf pops in with more mice for her. tom internally rolls his eyes at her antics, she never changes. 

“if you don’t mind me asking, my lord, how is it curious?” corvus asks his long time friend from school. corvus is still rather jealous tom got his looks back to his younger years, twenty to thirty, while he can do nothing for it, age decorating his face after years of stressing for his imprisoned sons —he’s rather ecstatic they’ve been broken out. 

“you see, corvus, on august second at around nine in the evening, i have reason to believe that harry potter opened the connection between us, briefly and unconsciously.” tom shares and severus frowns, the brat has a death wish. “why do i say this? well it’s rather odd that i felt the affects of dementors in close range when i was safe in the here manor. the stranger part is that i know the boy passed out, i truly thought he was dead for a minute.” tom announces. severus wishes he knew more about the incident now, his heart plummeting. 

“...then the most agonising pain i’ve ever felt in my life came through the connection. the reason i asked if he was hurt. i’ve never felt anything quite like it. it didn’t feel like they were taking his soul, but ripping something out of him. then later that evening, the connection closed and i have not been able to access it no matter how hard i’ve tried, even when it’s been exceedingly simple in the past.” tom reveals to them all, letting them mull over the words. severus frowns even deeper to himself, that should be impossible unless the brat has mastered occlumency and for the bond to shut off suddenly it just doesn’t happen. 

“my lord, i have word on the prophecy.” evan rosier, one of their youngest, announces, leaning casually back on his chair. 

“go on, evan...” tom gestures for him to continue, curious that the younger knows anything new about the prophecy after they failed to use ministry employee, broderick bode to get the prophecy from the department of mysteries under the imperius curse. 

“i was looking through some of the old family heirlooms and came across my great aunts diary on divination. she disclosed that only those involved in the prophecy will be able to pick it up.” evan smirks sedately. 

“well done, evan!” tom praises happily, glad he finally has the answer on how to get the prophecy. “seeing as i cannot waltz into the ministry however, we shall be needing the boy.” tom thinks, biting his lip in thought. “very well, i shall think further on this matter. you are all dismissed. severus, lucius, corvus, please stay behind so we can take a look at our guests.” he snorts uncharacteristically as he watches corvus practically bouncing in place, having not seen his sons yet. 

tom, ever kind, leads them to the lestranges first, courtesy to corvus. it’s less politeness, more-so annoyance, he does not need the sixty-odd year old acting like a six year old. tom thanks every god there is that lucius malfoy is too scared to deny him, he might just kill them all of they ended up in slytherin manor —not that he’s staying there yet, it’d be too obvious in any case of the ministry being suspicious and one of the first places they’d check. 

tom knocks on the door and hears a gruff come in from the other side. he opens the door with a pleasant smile, letting corvus rush past him like a dog chasing a bone. 

“father?” rodolphus asks, his voice hoarse from misuse over the years. 

“it’s me dolphy.” corvus says with a sad smile. 

“rab, wake up, fathers here!” the older brother says, shaking his sleeping brother awake. rabastan blinks his eyes open, scowling at his brother before catching his fathers figure and staring wide eyed. 

there’s a moment of silence before rabastan is launching himself into his fathers arms, sobbing heavily, rodolphus not far behind him. 

“let’s leave them, shall we?” tom smirks at the other two and they leave, shutting the door behind them as they go. “i do hope dear bella and vienna haven’t killed anyone yet... or each other.” tom sighs and hesitates outside the eerily quiet room. “or themselves.” he decides to finish that train of thought, hesitantly opening the door. 

“my lord!” bellatrix cheers, vienna sitting on the other side of the room with a grumpy look on her face. vienna sits at the dresser, brushing out her damp long blonde hair, obviously having just gotten out of a long shower. 

“vienna hawthorne...” lucius addresses, mildly amused at her presence. 

“listen here you bloody peacock! i have not rotted away in azkaban for years and learnt nothin’! you have no idea what i can do with a piece of cloth!” she snarls viciously, her mouth curling into a malicious smile. 

“eloquent as ever, my dear.” he teases and ducks as she launches the brush at his head. 

“men! they never learn!” she throws her hands up and severus smirks next to lucius. 

“it’s lovely to have you back my dears, we’ll leave you to rest now.” tom announces and vienna smiles pleasantly at him. 

“don’t bring stick-up-the-ass here next time!” she calls out to their backs as they leave. severus dodges the stinging hex thrown his way as he continues to gaze amusedly at the blond man. 

“who’s next, my lord?” severus asks as they stop in front of the next door. 

“augustus rookwood, montague mulciber and felix travers.” tom says, opening the door to find the three men strewn about through the room. 

augustus is laid, starfish on the bed, his head having upside down. montague is shirtless, passed out on the floor. felix travers lowers his book to give them a sheepish smile. 

“felix... i see you’ve settled in nicely.” tom greets, ignoring the obvious handprint-like bruise marks around montague’s neck. “...he’s not dead is he?”he asks, gesturing to the —hopefully— unconscious male. 

“he almost was but, sadly, he’ll live to see another day.” felix says, sighing longingly. tom snorts and nods before leaving the room. 

“please don’t kill them, they might be useful!” he calls over his shoulder before shutting the door. 

“lastly, my lord?” lucius questions, curious who the last three escapees are. 

“lixian fawcett, casper macmillan and antonin dolohov.” he opens the door to find the three men sat around the coffee table playing some sort of card game. “hello boys, just checking in.” he answers when the look over questionably. 

he shuts the door again, seeing no reason to disturb his followers anymore —also rather uncomfortable with their unmoving gazes but he doesn’t need to admit that, he’s a dark lord after all. “well, we’ve got some potions to be brewing now, don’t we?” he starts towards the potions lab, lucius and severus following obediently. 

severus sighs to himself, knowing he’ll be making potions for most of the foreseeable future. lucius smirks at his friend, a dose of karma he thinks. 


	5. The Goddess of Flames

harry sighs contently to himself, he’s been in the library for no less than a few hours and he’s already learnt so much. the clock was at around two in the morning when kreacher brought him up here to ‘test his worthiness’ and now it’s almost half-six.

he hadn’t really known where to start after looking up the symbolism of intestines, but he hadn’t wanted to keep on the same depressing route so he decided to look for dragons. he’s sure he still has the miniature figure of the hungarian horntail somewhere, he’ll look in his trunk soon. 

he’d found out, quite belatedly can he add, that dragons could communicate in parseltongue, if only a few words. that made him feel awful now, knowing he hurt a dark creature that he could’ve just bargained with. 

the scales, he found, where the most fascinating part. he has avoided dragon hide boots in the past anyways due to not condoning animal slaughter but apparently some of them have impenetrable scales, he wonders how they’d fare against bullets. 

the miniature horntail was breathing fire when he pulled them from the bag so what if they can talk as well?

he also found a lot of information on other dark creatures. thestrals, for example, were very interesting and he’s heard some older years claim they pull the carriages before. that’s the bit that he finds hard to believe, because he’s seen death before multiple times: his parents, quirrell, sixteen-year-old tom riddle and now... cedric. maybe none of them counted for some bizarre reason. he should be able to see them when he gets back to school this year. the crude drawings of the creature only show they can’t be photographed and he finds the sketches quite funny but endearing for some odd reason. 

there’s also acromantulas; the nasty little monsters he encountered second year. it does make him wonder why wizards thought it was a good idea to breed spiders to be guards but then again, wizards never make much sense. they were made as guards but have a taste for human  flesh . wizards are so dumb. 

the lethifolds were also interesting, being similar to dementors. he wonders if, with his luck, he’ll ever meet one and live to tell the tale. if they come while he’s asleep though, he may just end up vomiting blood at there face —do they have faces?— if he wakes up. 

with that thought, he decides to go look for his dragon. so, picking up the book on dark creatures he ventured out of the room. 

he skips into the kitchen, calling for kreacher as he goes. “oh, kreacher!” he sing songs, somewhat creepily, even if he doesn’t realise, placing the book down near him on the table. 

“how can kreacher be helping the worthy master!” kreacher is almost bouncing next to harry, his ears jumping up and down as he rocks on his heels. 

“can you grab my trunk from remus’ room without waking them up please?” he asks kreacher as he opens the fridge to pull out some eggs. 

“yes master worthy one!” kreacher exclaims, popping out quickly. 

harry snorts to himself, scrubbing the pans clean again to get molly’s magic out of them. he should just buy a new set of cooking utensils to cook himself but he doesn’t want to leave the house just yet. maybe soon, he can probably take padfoot as well if he wants to come. 

“kreacher be having your trunk, young master harry!” kreacher calls out from behind him, placing the trunk onto the table. harry grins mischievously. 

“thank you, kreacher!” kreacher nods and pops out again to wherever he goes, harry isn’t sure. 

he quickly starts digging through his trunk, pushing aside all sorts of books from the last four years —he really should get better books, or a better trunk for that matter— and finds the place where most of his things from the latest year are. he cheers successfully when he finds the small pouch he has the dragon in and places it aside to deal with after breakfast is done. he places his trunk near the door, laughing when it pops out, most likely back to remus’ room and turns to the stove. 

he finishes making breakfast easily: eggs, bacon and a lot of toast. he grabs the butter and places it next to the toast with the raspberry jam he’d found in the fridge. he also makes some more orange juice and runs out of the room to go get the two marauders. 

“wake up!” he shouts, slamming the door open. remus and sirius bolt upright, wand in hands as the face the door. 

“what happened!” remus shouts frantically, his eyes flicking across the room. 

“breakfast!” harry giggles as they curse. 

“well... i’ll race you?” sirius grins mischievously and takes off to the kitchen, remus running after him with harry walking. 

harry reaches the kitchen, smiling when he sees hedwig perched on the back of the chair. he grabs a piece of bacon and throws it to her with a hum. 

harry picks up his book and grabs a piece of toast. “harry...” harry looks up at sirius questioningly. “where’d you get that book?” he asks lowly. 

“the library.” harry confides nonchalantly. “honestly, i only brought it with me to look at my dragon.” he shrugs, standing up to grab the little pouch. 

“library?” sirius asks weakly. 

“what dragon?” remus questions more seriously, paling rapidly. 

“the library upstairs.” harry gestures. “this dragon...” harry announces, pulling the horntail out of the pouch. the dragon roars, not as loud as a real one would but still enough to make harry wince. 

“why do you have a dragon!” sirius asks, shooting up and shuffling away from the table with his wand raised. 

“she’s harmless...” harry mentally facepalms, realising that the dragon had to be female if it was a mothering dragon —probably. the wizarding world is weird. 

“put it away! it’ll kill us all!” sirius squeaks, jumping onto the table with a scream. 

“sirius! you’re scaring her!” harry scolds, feeling the feel of the small dragon in his hand. “ *hello... *” harry whispers to the dragon, watching as she raises her head in confusion. 

“ *speaker?* ” she asks, perking up excitedly. she starts to bounce in his palm, shooting celebratory flames. 

“ *whats your name?* ” he asks letting her crawl up his arm to rest on his shoulder. 

“ *i have no name.* ” she answers, chirping happily as he hands her a piece of bacon. 

“ *can i give you one?* ” he inquires and she nods, still eating the piece of bacon between her paws seeing as it’s almost as big as her. “what should i call her?” he asks, turning to face remus and sirius. 

he raises an eyebrow when he finds them both gaping at him and very,  very pale, well paler than normal. sirius being unnaturally pale from azkaban even two years later. 

“harry put that thing down before it burns you!” remus worries and harry furrows his eyebrows, remembering that her fire hadn’t burnt him at the trial anyways. 

he picks the dragon up off his shoulder between two fingers and places her in his palm. “ *i need you to breathe fire to show you’re harmless to me.* ” he hisses and she bobs her head. 

remus gasps and goes to reach out as she opens her little mouth and breathes fire onto harrys palm. “see, harmless.” he says with a proud grin, patting her head. 

“wait... LIBRARY! why were you in the library?” sirius shouts and harry recoils back, wincing at the noise. 

“kreacher showed it to me...” harry offers timidly, not wanting to anger sirius anymore than he seemingly already is. 

“kreacher!” sirius bellows and the elf pops in, looking at sirius in defiance for once. “why did you take harry to the library?” his voice is dangerously serious in a way that doesn’t match his childish personality. 

“kreacher followed mistress black’s orders!” the elf snarls and harry blinks, forgetting someone else asked for him to be taken there as he was running to hide from molly. 

“who is mistress black anyways?” harry asks, swinging the little dragon upside down by the tail and tickling her stomach, making her try to snap at his fingers with a hissy laugh. 

“my mother.” sirius grumbles, thinking to himself. “why did she order you to take him there?” sirius demands. kreacher mumbles something angrily to himself. “tell me!” he yells and kreacher smiles grimly. 

“mistress black be thinking harry potter be worthy. mistress black is never wrong.” kreacher declares loudly and harry raises an eyebrow, letting the little dragon rest on his shoulder as he watches the two interact curiously. 

“you can open the door?” he asks harry, his face unreadable as he searches through the younger s gaze. 

“it’s just a door. maybe it was like the butterfly effect and you all loosened it just enough so that i could open it.” he theorises, opening the book to try and find an example of a dragon name. 

he jumps when sirius slams the book in front of him. “this is dark magic harry! you shouldn’t be reading it!” he whispers loudly. harrys face shuts off quickly, used to dealing with angry adults. he nods and picks up the book. 

“i’ll go put it back.” he mumbles obediently, walking out of the room robotically, the dragon flying after him quickly. 

harry sighs, shutting the library door behind him to shut out the shouting from downstairs. he curls up on the armchair and the dragon lands on his knee. “i should look for names for you.” he whispers to himself, watching in awe as the bookshelves shift at his words and he’s left with more symbolism books but based on names. 

settling down on the floor beside the coffee table, he drops the heavy book down and places the small dragon next to it. “i fucking love this place.” he snorts to himself. 

“sirius what the hell was that?” remus demands as harry quickly leaves the room. 

“i didn’t... i didn’t mean to upset him...” sirius sighs weakly, slumping into a seat and placing his head on the table. “i just want to keep him safe, remus.” sirius whispers. 

“i know sirius but, harry isn’t like the others here, you cant treat him like molly treats her kids. harry hasn’t had a normal childhood and i wasn’t going to bring this up but when we went to get harry... there was about seven locks on the door.” he says as he sits next to sirius. 

“isn’t that a good thing?” sirius asks quietly. 

“they were on the outside of the door, you couldn’t unlock them from the inside. there was a cat-flap on the door too, sirius they lock him away like an animal.” remus chokes, his eyes watering in memory. “i didn’t see a picture of him anywhere or anything that belongs to him, it’s like he doesn’t exist in that house. it’s no wonder he hates them so much.” remus breathes. 

“i’ll kill them.” sirius whispers finally into the silence of the kitchen. “no wonder he was so desperate to live with me! a mass murderer he just found out was innocent. oh god, why does dumbledore keep him there. it doesn’t sound like the safest place for harry to be!” sirius hisses angrily and remus nods in agreement. 

“what can we do about it anyways... dumbledore only does what he does for the greater good.” remus says softly, doubt lingering in his words. 

“greater good my ass! where was dumbledore fourteen years ago when i got thrown into azkaban! i’ve done all i can for that man and he hasn’t bothered to even try and get me a trial.” remus looks at sirius, horrified by his words. “don’t look at me like the rem, we both know he could’ve gotten a trial for me at anytime but he didn’t, he left me to rot.” sirius chides, pointing at remus accusingly. remus sighs and lowers his head, not wanting to have an argument when he knows sirius is right. 

“maybe we should just let him carry on going to the library... he seemed a lot happier, you know?” remus speaks slowly, not wanting to further anger sirius. 

sirius sighs again, nodding. “i think you’re right. i think that the library might also do some good for him, dumbledore wants him fighting in a war and he’ll need more than just a disarming spell.” he procures thoughtfully and remus grins at him. 

“that’s the spirit!” he teases and sirius throws a glare at him. he furrows his eyebrows slightly as he faintly hears footsteps retreating up the stairs. “i think something else is going on though as well. he wouldn’t take his wand out, it sounds like hes locked it in his trunk since the dementor attack and he doesn’t seem all that fond of magic lately. it might just have something to do with going back to his muggle relatives and not being around magic though.” remus explains to sirius’ intense gaze. 

“well let’s leave him be for now and hope he doesn’t make a habit of leaving his wand where he can’t get to it.” sirius huffs, picking up another piece of bacon and throwing it to hedwig who coos happily. 

“he’s not forgetting to defend himself mind, he had a bat raised to knock moody out when we got there!” remus chuckles and sirius snorts in surprise. 

hermione runs back upstairs to rons room after accidentally overhearing the middle of remus and sirius’ conversation. she’d feel worse about it if it wasn’t an accident and she wasn’t so desperate to make up with harry.

she slams the door open, storming over to where ron and ginny are playing chesh, sitting down with a huff. 

“what’s got your knickers in a twist?” ron mumbles, ignoring the glare hermione sends him as he moves one of the pawns, taking out one of ginnys. 

“i just heard sirius and professor lupin talking about harry. apparently, he got access to the library.” she pouts, crossing her arms in childlike envy. 

the twins coincidentally —it’s really not, these walls must have ears— apparate into the room at that moment. “what’s this we hear about harrikins—“ george starts in their usual twin talk. 

“—our little harrikins being worthy enough—“ fred continues. 

“—to open the library door?” george finishes with a wicked grin. 

“yeah and then professor lupin said that maybe it’d good for him!” hermione throws her hands up in frustration. “says he’ll be able to learn new spells or something.” she grumbles. 

“those are dark curses...” george mumbles to fred who nods excitedly. 

“why wouldn’t he show me though? he knows i love the library and i’ll use it more than him!” she whines jealously. 

“i don’t think he will!” fred confides joyfully. 

“harrikins isn’t very happy with you—“ george starts, glaring at hermoine. 

“—and you keep starting more arguments.” fred agrees, nodding his head in mock seriousness. 

“he’s the one who started it! he’s been ignoring us since he got here! he hasn’t even been to our actual room yet.” hermione argues —ironically— and the twins grimace slightly at her tone. 

“you never know—“ george says, shrugging. 

“—harrikins might like the library—“ fred adds thoughtfully, they truly don’t know much about what harry likes. 

“—it’s got to hold some interesting books afterall!” george agrees, nodding his head in content. 

“what was that in the kitchen yesterday’s anyways? harrys never cooked us anything!” ron moans, the breakfast yesterday was so good, harry must’ve been holding back on them. 

“do you ever think with your brain and not you stomach?” fred asks, wrinkling his nose unhappily. 

“but it’s not fair! we’ve been his best friends since first year!” ron complains and ginny scoots away from hermione subtly, not liking the way she talks about harry. she believes her brothers though, she grew up with them —it’s just shes having a hard time choosing which ones to side with. 

“not very good ones if you ask me.” george proclaims, rubbing his hand through his hair unconsciously. 

“that’s not funny.” hermione snaps. 

“wasn’t supposed to be.” fred snarls back, relishing in her flinch. 

“i think we’re going to find harrikins.” george declares as he stands up, brushing his trousers off. fred nods and bounds after his brother, out the door. 

“shall we check the library first, oh dear brother of mine?” fred teases, gesturing for george to go first,george snorts and walks past fred to the landing above them. 

george leans forward, pressing his ear to the door, furrowing his brows when he hears laughter. he knocks lightly and the sound stops, a thump hitting the floor. 

he stands back when he hears footsteps approaching the door, waiting next to george. harry opens the door a crack before smiling and stepping out, shutting the door behind him. he clasps his hands around something, smiling mischievously at them. 

“what’ve you got there harrikins?” george asks and harry grins, opening his hands, letting his dragon fly out. he giggles when he hears the twins scream and take off down the stairs in mock horror. 

“he’s going to cook and make us into dinner!” they yell as harry chases after them, cackling wildly as hestia blows fire towards the two. 

harry laughs as the run into the kitchen, tripping and bowling all three of them over causing him to laugh even harder. 

“it’s good to see you two.” harry says, realising belatedly he hadn’t been around the twins that much because their magic was mixed in with the light but now that he’s with them separately he sees their magic is a darker neutral and he’s fine with that. 

he goes to push up but they grab him, pulling him down to lay on top of them. “our saviour!” they exclaim dramatically, fake crying as they stroke harrys hair. 

“harry!” sirius yells, panicked as he rounds the table, not having seen what happened, only to find the three of them laughing tearily on the floor. “merlin, whatd you do to them?” he asks, gesturing to the twins as they continue to clutch harry and fake sob. 

“he saved us from the dragon! our knight in shining armour!” they cry in unison and remus comes up behind sirius, muffling his laughter behind his hand. 

calming down, harry let’s them pick him and up, placing him on his feet as the eye the dragon on his shoulder. “what’s their name?” fred asks curiously, putting his finger out for the little dragon only to get bitten and gasps horrified. “betrayal!” he stage whispers. 

“she’s called hestia, goddess of flames.” he grins excitedly, holding his hand out to let her hang upside down on his finger like a bat. 

“you named it?” sirius asks like he’s in pain. 

“well neither of you helped me!” he sniffs and sirius looks away, blushing while remus laughs. “what’d you call me for anyways?” he asks the twins, picking up a cold piece of bacon from when they had breakfast an hour earlier and holding it out for hestia who roars happily. 

“can’t we just visit—“ george starts, staring hestia down as she grabs the bacon with her tail, watching in fascination. 

“—our favourite little brother?” fred asks, putting a hand to his head. 

“get bored of the others?” he asks, hopping back onto the table. 

“hermione came in complaining about you not showing her the library because she was eavesdropping on sirius and remus, then ron started complaining about you never cooking anything for him. never thinking with his head that one...” fred informs harry seeing as george is currently too busy holding a staring contest with hestia. 

“always with his stomach.” harry finishes with a snort. 

“oh no!” sirius says, catching their attention. “don’t you dare start joining in on their weird telepathic talking!” sirius worries, his eyes wide and serious. 

“we don’t know—“ harry starts. 

“—what you mean.” fred completes. 

“george!” george exclaims. they all turn to look at him questionably. “i just wanted to participate.” he offers, trying to tug hestia off his finger. they all burst out into laughter as they watch the boy bewildered. 

“i live with a bunch of idiots!” remus throws his hands up, turning to walk out of the kitchen. 

harry stands on his tiptoes, gazing into the sausage casserole he started earlier in the day. it’s nearing dinner time now, he decided to slow cook something so molly couldn’t physically beat him to making dinner and force residue covered food down his throat. 

he jumps slightly when he feels a magical increase behind him and turns to see professor snape stepping out of the floo. he groans to himself when he remembers there’s an order meeting scheduled for tonight and rolls his eyes at his own forgetfulness. he turns back to his casserole anyways, determined not to let these light fanatics —bar snape, he guesses— ruin it for him —not barring snape, especially snape. 

“potter, don’t meddle with other people’s cooking.” snape drawls and he turns to give snape an unimpressed glare. it’s like these people have never seen a teenage boy cook. 

“actually, sir, i made this.” he shrugs, turning to see if he can find any tiger bread for bread and butter. 

“and where did you learn how to cook, potter?” snape sneers, believing him for once about his involvement it seems. 

“aunt petunia doesn’t like to cook.” he almost slips up, choking on the doesnt and nearly saying didnt, because she did cook after the dementor attack, seeing as she didn’t know he existed apparently she had to cook herself. snape, however, files that comment away for later with a raised eyebrow. harry quickly changes his train of thoughts to find hestia. “ *hestia, where are you?* ” he hisses, ignoring snapes flinch. 

“ *in here hatchling!* ” she calls and he turns to find the source, groaning when he sees her sitting inside the sugar jar, the lid on. 

“ *what did i say about eating sugar cubes?* ” he demands and he opens the jar, pulling hestia out by the tail. 

“ *not to...* ” she hisses like a child who’s been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. 

“do i want to ask?” snape questions and harry turns to him with a sheepish smile, holding hestia up by the tail. 

“probably not...” harry agrees, setting the dragon on the table with a warning to behave. 

“you do know an order meeting is about to commence don’t you potter? or are you truly that ignorant?” snape jibes, trying time rile up the boy, uncomfortable with the domestic nature of the situation. 

“i don’t really care if there’s a meeting, i want to finish making dinner before mrs weasley starts another argument with me.” harry brushes the jab off like it’s nothing more than dust. 

“pray do tell, why is she arguing with you?” snape asks pryingly. 

“because we all enjoy harrys cooking more than hers.” remus answers as he walks over to the duo from the kitchen entrance. “smells great cub, how long until it’ll be ready?” remus asks, ruffling harrys hair. 

“about ten minutes.” harry answers. “now if i could just find some goddamned tiger bread...” he mumbles to himself, more surprised than he should be when kreacher pops in. 

“kreacher be getting young master harry the tiger bread!” kreacher announces and harry smiles fondly. 

“you’re a lifesaver kreacher! i swear i’m going grocery shopping soon, there’s no variety here at all and i’m sick of having pumpkin juice.” harry says, fishing a few galleons out of his apron pocket that he’s started to store there for these exact reasons. 

“your orange juice is better anyways.” remus calls over his shoulder, picking up yesterday’s newspaper and putting it on the end of table for the meeting later. 

“harry dear, what have i told you about cooking meals!” molly hollers as she hobbles in and severus internally winces in sympathy for the boy, no one likes being screeched at by molly. 

“that i don’t have to.” harry answers cheekily, not letting her light magic ruin his mood, especially when there’s two dark wizards to counteract the horrible brightness of it, thankfully he’s growing used to it now and he’ll look into shutting his ‘magic sight’, as he’s dubbed it, off when he wants or at least gaining control over it. 

“so why are you cooking?” she asks waving around her teatowel, putting her hands on her hips to try and intimidate him. 

“because i want to. you see, mrs weasley, wanting to and having to are different things. i want to play quidditch and i have to go to school. i don’t have to cook here, i’m not back home, as you call it, and i like cooking.” harry quips, clapping to himself when kreacher pops back in with a loaf of fresh tiger bread. “i owe you one kreacher.” harry smiles at the old elf. 

“young master harry be owing kreacher nothing! kreacher lives to serve.” then he bows and pops out, harry sighs to himself, shaking his head fondly. snape looks on in bewilderment, wondering why no one questions why the house elf obeys harry. 

“what’s the tiger bread for?” remus inquires, moving so that he’s in between molly and harry. 

“bread and butter. please tell me you’ve had it before remus or i might cry.” harry moans as he grabs the knife, cutting the bread up into slices. 

“let me do that, deary!” molly says, pulling out her wand. 

“don’t!” harry quickly intervenes, his body tense. “i don’t cook with magic.” he mutters, more to himself than them but they hear it anyways. 

“but that’s so inefficient! you’re a wizard harry, are you not?” she scowls but puts her wand away anyways. 

“and i grew up with muggles, i don’t like changing the only routines i can keep the same.” he coldly snaps, turning back to find the butter in the fridge. 

“you’re upsetting him, stop it molly. leave him be.” sirius says as he walks in, glaring at hestia with narrowed eyes as she blows flames his way. 

“oh, i’m sorry harry! i didn’t mean to upset you! it’s just i’m so used to using magic to cook!” she apologises, but harry hears the hesitance to do so in her voice and mentally hisses at her. 

“it’s alright mrs weasley.” harry answers emotionlessly, sighing quietly as he finishes buttering the bread, scooping it into a bowl. 

“the order meeting is about to start pup...” sirius speaks softly as tonks and moody floo in, stopping to talk at the other end of the kitchen. 

“are you hungry or not? because i doubt you want to wait to hear about any other azkaban escapees.” harry teases and sirius looks like he’s constipated as he mentally debates with himself. 

“put it on the table then, dumbledore cant stop us if we’re already eating!” sirius hurries and harry snickers, picking up the pot after turning the heat off and putting it in the middle of the table with a ladle in it. he puts out dishes and cutlery while sirius calls up the stairs that dinners ready. harry rolls his eyes and places down the jug of pumpkin juice, sneering at it before grabbing a cup of coffee, sliding one to remus as well. 

snape watches in calculated curiosity as the three move in unison and he doesn’t miss the coffee part. he mentally wonders if the boy is insane or just that hungry that he decides to takeover what should be an order meeting. 

“i thought there was an order meeting?” hermione asks as she enters the room, glaring when she’s sees harry barricaded between sirius and remus again, the twins sitting opposite. 

“there is.” remus replies, ladling some of the casserole into his dish before passing the ladle to sirius. 

“we’re allowed to listen?” she asks hopefully, taking a seat beside ron. 

“no, harry and sirius decided dinner was more important.” molly quickly gets rid of her hopes. 

“harry! you shouldn’t be disobeying dumbledore!” she chastises and harry looks at her lazily, hestia resting in his hair. 

“i’m not disobeying anyone. dumbledore never told me or sirius specifically to not push the order meeting back for dinner.” harry blanks, sighing when hestia gets up and starts to steal sausages from his plate. 

“is that a dragon?” ron asks, his mouth stuffed with food. harry wrinkles his nose distastefully. 

“no it’s a penguin.” he smiles nostalgically remembering hagrid saying something similar to him when they first went to diagon alley. 

“really?” ron asks dumbly and sirius spits out his pumpkin juice as he laughs, spraying it all over molly who doesn’t look happy about it. harry widens his eyes before turning back to eat his food, hoping the boy isn’t actually that stupid. 

“you shouldn’t have a dragon harry! it’s dangerous!” hermione scolds and snape raises an eyebrow. 

“tell that to hagrid or the ministry.” harry grunts, feeding more of his casserole to hestia. “ *i didn’t know you needed to eat?* ” he asks, hoping he hadn’t accidentally left her to starve for a year because then he’d feel terrible. 

“ *i don’t, i like food though.* ” she tells him and harry nods in agreement. 

“what’d she say?” remus asks as the dragon slowly edges over to his plate to steal some of his sausages as well. 

“i asked if she actually needed to eat. she doesn’t she just likes food.” harry recites you remus who sighs exasperatedly. 

“don’t you dare start following her mottos either! merlin knows you’re skinny enough.” remus rebukes. 

“yes mother.” harry teases. 

“you’re just like your father! arrogant and rude!” remus stage whispers playing along. 

“excuse me! i’ll have you know i’m perfectly polite and well mannered! don’t listen to that witch, son.” sirius gasps offendedly, pulling harrys head into his chest and harry dissolves into giggles. 

“witch! how dare you! first harry and now me!” remus exclaims and sirius falters at remus’ stern expression, reminding him of molly in an argument and breaks into laughter, remus following not long after. 

dumbledore arrives that moment and surveys the lively room in surprise. “i see our meeting has been put back a little bit.” he smiles his trademark grandfatherly smile and his eyes twinkle. 

harry eyes snap shut when the mans overbearingly present magic fills the room like he’s some sort of christmas tree. he breathes deeply, his nerves slowly starting to move more as pain from nowhere gradually gets stronger. 

harry chokes on nothing as he’s hit by two beams of the light, one from hermione under the table and the other from dumbledore yet the man hasn’t raised his wand. the sludge slowly climbs back up harrys throat and he pushes his chair back, coughing harshly into his hand, facing the floor. 

remus moves quickly, rubbing the boys back soothingly while sirius turns to see what happened. harry moves to see blood in his hand again and he lets out ragged, pained breaths. remus grabs him and pulls him up, quickly leading him out of the room and into the bathroom. 

“who cast a spell at harry just then?” sirius demands, having seen one beam of light. “speak up!” he hisses and catches hermione paling out of the corner of his eye. “what did you cast?” he demands. 

“sirius! you can’t accuse hermoine just because they’re in an argument!” molly erupts and sirius ignores her, glaring at hermoine. 

“a stinging hex...” she whispers into the silence and sirius curses loudly. 

“you know he’s sick you stupid girl! why would you do that!” he yells and her eyes fill with tears. 

“he interrupted the meeting...” she offers weakly. sirius throws his hands up, storming out of the room to find harry and remus. 

he knocks on the bathroom door and remus opens it, checking who it is before sighing in relief at seeing sirius, letting the man in. 

sirius’ heart aches as he finds harry on the closed toilet in the same position as the day he got here, no progress having been made since then. harry curls in on himself. 

“hermione cast a stinging hex, must’ve hit you in the lungs...” he tells harry who nods absently, knowing it’s more complicated than they think. he closes his eyes in misery, willing his body to go numb. 

“this really needs to stop happening...” remus sighs. he turns to find harry already asleep, leaning against the glass shower wall. he snorts quietly before carefully picking harry up and walking out of the bathroom. 

“alright, we’ll have to show him his room tomorrow.” sirius groans. “i don’t think he’ll appreciate waking up in a random room...” he mumbles, running a hand through his knotted hair. “i’ll go back to the kitchen and you make sure those little rats don’t get anywhere near him.” sirius warns to remus who nods and ventures back to his room. 

“thank you all for joining this meeting today. i’m sure you’ve all heard of the terrible news lately?” albus speaks welcomingly into sirius’ kitchen. sirius’ hand clench under the table as he avoids the mans eyes, he hadn’t even realised before the earlier conversation himself that albus could’ve helped him years ago, the elderly man knew he was innocent, he’s the one who was witness for the fidelius charm. 

“how did they even escape? azkaban its supposed to be inescapable!” molly screeches as remus re-enters the room, turning to gather the dishes off the table. sirius is glad the children are gone because he doesn’t want to hold moony back from ripping hermione a new one. 

sirius has to admit, it’s the most controversial thing to say in a room with him considering he himself escaped from azkaban although she does pose a point. he walks over to help remus with the washing up, they’d taken to copying harry’s methods because for whatever reason harry made everything so much cleaner without magic. 

remus gives sirius a look full of exhaustion when he sidles up to the scarred mans side, obviously just as tired of the meeting already as sirius. 

“remus, my boy, i’m sure harry is well now?” albus asks over the table and remus turns around with an annoyed look. 

“no better than he was when we went to get him.” remus snarks, wrinkling his nose. 

“honestly, you’re both over-exaggerating harry’s condition! you know, they told me he was vomiting blood to try and keep him out of cleaning yesterday.” molly says with a sneer. severus sits up, he hadn’t heard of this. 

“over-exaggerating my ass!” remus growls, his nerves on edge from moony complains in his head. “he’s been doing nothing but coughing up blood since he got here! yesterday we woke up to him vomiting blood and if you don’t believe us i’m sure harry will understand your disregard for his well-being considering that’s all you’ve been doing lately.” remus huffs, turning around when sirius nudges him slightly to calm down. 

“blood, you say?” severus asks, internally panicking because that is not good. 

“harrys throat got torn up because he wasn’t drinking anything after the dementor attack.” sirius says as he turns to lean his hip against the counter next to remus.  bullshit , severus thinks internally, the boys thrown them the lie like a bone and they’ve taken to it like the dogs they truly are, but he stays quiet on the matter. let the boy lie, he’ll find out what is truly happening eventually. 

“i’m assured it’s nothing serious? just a tad of forgetfulness!” albus proclaims, brushing off the issue of harry’s health like he always does. it’s for the greater good, he placates himself, knowing he’s done the boy a terrible crime by putting him with the dursleys but finding himself unable to feel fully guilty because he thinks it’s for the best. 

“what do we know about these escapees?” moody barks, throwing the newspaper into the middle of the table from where he’d picked it up to read earlier. 

“bellatrix lestrange was in slytherin. tortured the longbottoms to insanity because of the prophecy but most people know the first part already. married rodolphus lestrange after graduating hogwarts. as far as we know, she’s the only female follower the dark lord marked, also completely deranged.” tonks adds, looking at the picture of her aunt distastefully. 

“augustus rookwood, slytherin. he worked as an unspeakable in the department of mysteries before he was named by igor karkaroff so we already know why he’s been pulled out of azkaban. such a waste of a good man.” minerva says, sniffing slightly as she remembers the man from teaching him. 

“rodolphus and rabastan lestrange, accomplices to bellatrix during the longbottoms demise alongside barty crouch jr who we know got the dementors kiss last year after being found out. the brothers were also in slytherin, very skilled in defense against the dark arts, most likely the dark arts as well knowing who they follow.” moody pipes up, hissing crouch jr’s name likes it’s a disease, sounding satisfied with what became of the man. 

“antonin dolohov, slytherin, one of the original death eaters. responsible for the deaths of my brothers fabian and gideon prewett. particularly skilled duelist.” it’s the one escapee that had riled molly up the most. the murderer of her brothers. she hoped one day she could give him the karma he deserves. 

“montague mulciber, his father was a member of the knights of walpurgis. mulciber was a no good slytherin just like his father. had an awful cruel streak of playing pranks on his schoolmates mostly mary macdonald. good friends with julius avery a suspected death eater to the ministry but a confirmed one in here.” minerva offers, not looking at either of the marauders who she knows had the exact same cruel streak and if things had been slightly different they might be on the opposing side of the war had james just accepted the offer to keep his safety. 

“felix travers a former slytherin and casper macmillan a former ravenclaw. travers was imprisoned for the murder of the mckinnon family, named by karkaroff again. very skilled in hand to hand combat. macmillan is a bit of a different story. while being known to affiliate with death eaters in his school years he was almost never seen around them like some sort of ghost. macmillan is very passionate about divination.” hestia jones, a former ravenclaw that had known macmillan speaks up, offering her knowledge. sirius and remus really can’t take her seriously at the moment seeing as she shares a name with harry’s dragon. 

“lixian fawcett... gryffindor.” bill starts and they all turn to him expectantly, but surprised. “he was a few years above me. i’m pretty sure he became a defense lawyer in the ministry. he still kept in contact with some of the other gryffindors before he was arrested for theft. very skilled with diversion.” bill smiles bitterly, remembering the way he used to watch the boy play cards in awe, wondering how the boy never lost. 

“that leaves vienna hawthorne. i cant say i remember anything remarkable about her time in hogwarts except that she was a muggleborn hufflepuff. none of us had seen it coming. she went on a rampage, murdering her muggle family and neighbours. she never did give the reason at her trial.” albus says sadly. it’s true, vienna had been such a lovely girl in hogwarts and no one knew where it all went wrong. albus thinks it might’ve been from the beginning. 

“the wizarding world won’t even know who half of these people are.” sirius points out from where he’s helping remus dry up. 

“can i ask why you aren’t using magic either?” molly asks snidely. 

“no, you may not.” remus states, not even glancing her way. 

“i must say, i am rather curious myself...” albus sighs whimsically. 

“good for you.” remus mumbles with furrowed brows. sirius snorts in surprise and elbows remus harshly. snape watches in curiosity, it seems lupin has grown a backbone and has come to his sense about albus’ manipulations. “sorry it’s been a long few days, i don’t mean to be short with you albus. harry doesn’t like cooking or cleaning with magic because it’s changing a routine and we’ve found everything tastes better when no magic is used and we can be sure the plates are cleaner this way.” remus sighs blandly and sirius gives him an empathetic book. 

“do you make a habit of copying every potters actions?” severus asks, straightening his back to play the role he must to avoid suspicion. honestly, with how paranoid moody is he wonders how blind the man truly is. 

remus slaps sirius when he goes to open his mouth, glaring at the other, conveying something with his eyes. sirius narrows his eyes and turns back to carry on putting away the dishes. 

kreacher pops in, picking something up out of the sugar jar. “what’re you doing kreacher?” sirius sighs agitatedly, already knowing it’s something to do with harry. 

“young master harry had me look for hestia. hestia be in the sugar jar.” he says, showing his wrinkly cupped hands that the dragon is trapped between. 

most order members look to hestia jones in confusion who shrugs helplessly. “alright just tell him to keep watch of his bloody dragon before it breaks something.” sirius groans and remus pats his shoulder sympathetically. the dragon has been around for less than a day and is no bigger than an apple but she’s already so exhausting. remus decidedly keeps his mouth shut on harry being able to speak to the dragon, knowing she can’t understand them but the order will accuse harry anyways. sirius catches his eyes and nods in agreement. 

“did you say dragon?” bill asks, perking up. “charlie will be green with envy when he hears about this!” he exclaims childishly and sirius smiles fondly at him. 

“it’s the figure from the second task, harry only remembered he had her this morning but she’s already eaten all the damned sugar cubes. her names hestia, by the way, goddess of fire.” hestia blushes at remus’ words unconsciously, not knowing the origin of her name by the seems of things. 

“you reckon harry will let charlie see when he comes back from romania? he adores the actual dragon harry picked out. hongarian hungrytail or something.” bill mumbles, trying to remember the species name. 

“hungarian horntail.” remus corrects unconsciously, his year of teacher giving him new habits. 

“thassa’ badger!” bill cheers, quoting one of his muggleborn friends that uses muggle quotes all the time. “honestly that thing was terribly dangerous though, charlie said he isn’t even mad about the dragon being hurt because harry came back safe. that’s like, a big deal.” bill declares, nodding his head seriously. tonks snorts to herself, wondering if the man realises he doesn’t sound remotely mature. 

“i’m sure harry wouldn’t mind having some company. you should write to your brother, tell him to come round to see a dragon without putting his life at risk.” sirius suggests and bill nods happily. 

“can i come with him? i haven’t seen charlie in ages but i don’t want to intrude.” bill blushes sheepishly and sirius smirks sharply. 

“we don’t mind at all, don’t worry. if any of the others complain they can’t do shit because it’s my house.” sirius admits with a shrug. remus snorts next to him and mumbles something about finally standing up for himself. 

“now i’m sure harry will be busy with his friends! i’m sure he’d get bored of company older than himself, after all all his friends are the same age as him—“ molly starts, scolding her own son. 

remus, who had recently taken his seat again, slams his head on the table in annoyance, silencing the room. “i agree.” sirius nods seriously. “you’re welcome any time bill, don’t listen to her. harry doesn’t even spend time with the others so i have no idea what rubbish she’s talking about. he only has me and good ol’ remus here i’m sure he’d appreciate company that’s less... aged than we are.” sirius teases and bill laughs, nodding to sirius thankfully. 

“he’s serious by the way. you can show up anytime and i’m sure harry would be fine with it.” remus adds, rubbing his head. 

“i know i’m sirius, honestly i think you’re losing your memory in your old age.” remus groans loudly and childishly at sirius words while the other man laughs at his friends misfortune. 

“severus has there been any word from tom?” albus asks directly, now severus would have to answer. he doesn’t go to the man after meeting anymore, he uses summons as a way to get out of conversations or situations he’s uncomfortable with —not that albus has any idea. 

“the dark lord is still as insane as can be as are the newest additions. he mentioned the bond opening between him and potter during the dementor attack, asking if the boy was hurt or cursed to try to find a reason so much pain came through the connection. i myself, see nothing wrong with the boy and it’s most likely just in his head.” severus offers the half truth, making sure he doesn’t give away the dark lords plans while sharing his worries about potter. 

“harry opened the bond you say?” albus asks with a frown, harry definitely wouldn’t do that. 

“i do believe he’s making things up to try and pull more information out of me. the boy does seem to be in some pain however if he’s coughing up blood but nothing like he was describing.” severus keeps himself professional as he lies to the supposed greatest wizard of their time. 

“all is well then!” albus declares, ignoring the fact that there’s ten more death eater escapees out there and that harry potter could be in trouble. he’s sure tom is lying, harry is incapable of opening the bond. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry: *coughs up blood*
> 
> Dumbledore: all is well with the world


	6. The Bloody Badger

he looks around the field he appeared in, confusion etched into his features. how on earth did he get here? sure he didn’t want to be at grimmauld place anymore due to hermione and some of the weasleys wretched light magic suffocating him. he still hadn’t forgiven hermione for the stinging hex that occurred three days ago at the order meeting and he hadn’t been able to figure out what dumbledore had been casting his way.

how does he even get out of here? the fields seem to go on for miles. it’s an odd field, it occurs to him, full of lavender and buttercups. he’s never seen anything quite like it, how the flowers have grown to reach his knees he’ll never know. 

....they reach his knees? didn’t they just reach above his ankles? harry looks down in anxiety, finding his assumptions to be correct as the flowers have started to slowly make their way up his legs, wrapping around him like vines. 

he panics, leaning down and rippingthe flowers off his legs only to find they start growing faster, leaving horrible rope-like burns around his legs each time he pulls them off. 

harry’s also sure he didn’t go to sleep in shorts and a t-shirt, even though sirius had given him his own room, he preferred to sleep with clothes on to stay warm and cover his skin. that had caused an argument of the century between molly and sirius, the former not understanding harry’s need for personal space and the latter doing his best. 

harry shakes himself out of his thoughts, wondering how he keeps getting so caught up in them. 

the flowers are slowly getting sharper now and harry realises with growing dread that they’re slowly turning into thorn-filled vines. 

he starts to run, tears filling his eyes as he feels the thorns pressing into his feet, blood spilling out from them. 

he glances over his shoulder, looking for the presence that feels so familiar to his nightmare from his second day at grimmauld. he realises he’s asleep now... but that’s not right, you aren’t supposed to know you’re asleep in nightmares. 

harry runs faster, catching the briefest glimpse of bewildered red eyes before he pushes the new presence out again. it’ll do no good for voldemort to see into his nightmares right now, especially when he can’t get rid of whatever is chasing him. 

harry lets out shriek of despair when the flowers shift and morph into looming trees. suddenly he’s not in the serene field but a forest worse than the forbidden one at hogwarts. 

the worst part is, he knows he’s in his head now. he’s trapped, he can’t get out. like he’s in some sort of paralysed state. 

he keeps moving, ignoring the way the rocks and twigs snap against his skin. the branches of the trees start trying to reach out to grab him like the whomping willow and harry starts to breathe harder, ducking each incoming branch best he can while sprinting. 

eventually he stops trying to sidestep —is siderun a word? probably not.— the branches, raising his arms to cover his face and he sprints blindly forward. 

he stumbles to his knees when he can no longer see trees surrounding him like an omen of death. he looks up carefully, eyes widening when he sees a badger. 

the badger is unnatural, standing there like a human and it takes harry’s twisted brain a moment to recognise the bloody clothes as those of cedric’s. the badger opens its mouth in an unnatural scream and takes off down the road that appeared to separate two sides of the forest. 

“cedric!” harry calls after the creature, stumbling to his feet to run after the animal. 

he ignores all the dancing shadows that cackle at him from the tree-line, chasing the badger, hot on his tail as he sharply turns into the forest again. 

harry chases the badger for what seems like hours, yelling for cedric to slow down and wait for him. 

voldemort is pushing heavily against the thing blocking him from harry’s mind and harry wants to thank whatever the presence is doing to get rid of the older man but also wants to get that thing out of his head too. 

the two presences are fighting violently against each other and voldemort is losing, red eyes fading in before quickly getting shoved out again. 

“cedric, please! stop!” harry cries, trying to grab the badger. 

the badger stops harshly, coming to a halt in a clearing. harry reaches out, crying in despair when the badger disintegrates, a mix of tom riddle and quirrell’s death. 

he looks around the clearing, stopping when he sees a well. he frowns, walking closer and peering inside. 

he doesn’t even have time to see who’s behind him before he’s being pushed into the well. 

he waits, bracing himself to hit the bottom. 

the abnormal presence finally succeeds in pushing voldemort out, harry catches one last glimpse of his piercing red eyes before they’re gone. 

he waits, and waits, and waits. tears start to slip down his face as he scrambles to get a hold on the stone in the well wall but only succeeds in hurting himself more, ripping his nails out. 

he stares down at his arms, taking in the new additions to his collection of scars. the three that he made when the dursleys stopped reacting. he supposes it’s suiting, one scar for each life he took. next to those scars are the scars from the graveyard and where the basilisk pierced his arm. how they’re all on his right arm he doesn’t now. 

he exhales sharply as he hits the ground. standing up, he looks around to see if this is the bottom of the well. 

stopping, he stares at the front door number 4, privet drive. 

“not again... please...” he mumbles weakly to whatever presence is out there. he chokes on a sob when he’s compelled to enter the house again. 

he retches at the stench in the air, of corpses and something so utterly dead he wonders how the authorities haven’t gotten any complaints. at least he assumes it’s the smell of the dead. 

he clenches his eyes shut when he sees the rotting has worsened. the deterioration of the dursley’s is so obvious he wonders if dumbledore has spelled the neighbours to ignore their ill health as they all did harry’s own growing up. 

he falls to the floor, pulling his knees to his chest and sobbing, wishing he would wake up. 

he doesn’t move as aunt petunia walks over again, this time with a meat cleaver that she thrusts straight into harry’s chest. 

he opens his eyes and curls into himself on his bed, weeping into his pillow harshly. 

bill, as promised, had immediately written to his younger brother, charlie. three days have passed since the order meeting and the duo are finally coming over to see the dragon. 

sirius silently thanks every lord there is that the boys chose today out of every other day. harry wasn’t being himself and his trial being tomorrow has worsened his mood further. 

he eyes the boy who’s sat on the window seat in the living room, the fire blazing to combat the cold weather that seeps through the walls of the ancient house. 

harry’s thankful for the moment of silence. the last few days have been full of arguments between adults —harry completely ignored everyone besides the twins, sirius and remus— for the most silly reasons. he’d cleaned every corner he could reach, scraping the light magic out of the walls until the house was slowly regaining health. 

the portraits did mention feeling a lot younger and harry had given a small smile at that. 

he’d holed himself up in the library every chance he got as well, only coming out when he was ordered to clean or to cook himself food seeing as there’s a bathroom attached to the room. 

hermione hadn’t liked it one bit, always complaining about how unhelpful he’s being just sitting around and reading. he doesn’t have the energy to point out that she does the exact same thing. 

molly is getting more unbearable by the day, yapping in his ears about how he should be doing this and how he should be doing that. sirius and remus are also sick of her controlling attitude. she always ends up storming away when sirius starts to argue back though which is better than her staying and chirping about everything. 

ron doesn’t even notice he isn’t around and ginny has decided to keep her distance from mostly everyone. 

“what’s gotten you so down pup and i know it’s not just your trial tomorrow so don’t try to use that excuse.” sirius scolds, moving to sit beside harry, squishing them both onto the window seat but it’s cozy, comforting. 

“nightmare.” harry whispers and sirius sighs in empathy, his haven’t been as bad the last few months because he has distance from azkaban but harry’s wounds —hopefully metaphorically— are fresh. 

“you want to tell me about it?” sirius asks softly, running his hand through harry’s hair. 

sirius has become somewhat of an anchor to harry the past few days as well as remus. harry’s never had anyone look after them like they do and he doesn’t know how to receive their actions most of the time. he has this idea stuck in his head that they do it because they pity him or because he’s their best friends son so it’s their duty somehow. his trust issues have skyrocketed since he came to hogwarts and he was weary even before then. 

“it was just about cedric.” harry speaks like he’s bone tired, the grief of losing the hufflepuff weighing heavily on him. he may not have been the closest of friends with cedric but they were closer than most people thought. cedric had been a confidant to harry, someone who could look past the hero complex they handed him when he was eleven. he knows people blame him for cedrics death and that’s the hardest thing for him to hear because he partially is. if he had just died when he was supposed to instead of living, things could have been normal. but they aren’t. 

“i’m so sorry pup... i know how hard it is to lose a friend. were you two close?” sirius asks again, pushing his own guilt aside to try and take some of harry’s own. the fifteen year old bears the guilt of a hundred men and he can’t do anything about it. 

“closer than the others think.” harry mumbles, his chest still in unimaginable pain from the dream like his throat was last time after aunt petunia had strangled him. “i’m just so mad at myself because i could’ve done something, you know? i knew something was wrong and i was telling him we need to go. then it was too late and bloody pettigrew killed him.” harry sniffs, his chest feeling heavy. 

“...wormtail killed him? i...i thought voldemort killed him?” sirius cant help but feel angry with himself for not killing the rat when he had the chance. there isn’t much chance he’ll get free with or without the rat if dumbledore is still around apparently. 

“pettigrew fired the curse.” harry confirms and sirius inhales sharply, pulling harry closer into his side. 

“i’m so sorry you had to witness someone die harry...” he mumbles into harrys hair. 

“it wouldn’t be the first time.” harry huffs bitterly. “my parents, cedric. then the people i killed with my own hands as well: professor quirrell and... tom riddle.” sirius looks down at him with wide eyes. 

“what do you mean you... killed them?” sirius asks hurriedly, wanting to know. 

“professor quirrell was possessed by voldemort in my first year and whatever killed him years ago made quirrell burn beneath my hands. tom riddle... it was a memory of him as a sixteen year old. i trusted him and... and then he betrayed me. i had to kill him because the basilisk was set on me. i didn’t want to kill either of them.” harry whispers hoarsely, tearfully. the dursleys state is kept to himself, how does he know if they’re dead or alive. he waits for sirius to move away but he doesn’t, he pulls harry closer, tears forming in his own eyes. 

“you did what you had to survive. i’m not disgusted or disappointed with you. in fact, i’m very, very proud of you for telling me this.” sirius utters to the boy and harry turns, hiding into sirius chest as the man lets his own tears fall. 

“i just want to be a normal kid...” harry whispers mournfully. things could’ve been so different if he’d had a normal childhood, perhaps he’d even have different friends. 

he wants to talk to ron and hermione, he does. but everytime he’s around them it hurts to stare at their light magic. sure the light magic has started to hurt less over the last few days but it’s still terribly uncomfortable. all he can do is pray that by the time september first comes, he’ll be able to sit next to either of them and talk normally without feeling the urge to gag or leave. 

he knows he’s going to lose his friends. it’s not a matter of ‘if’ anymore but ‘when’. he wishes it didn’t have to be this way and curses the dementors for whatever they did. however, he knows it’s for the best. the dementors fixed something deep inside him and whatever they took was the only thing keeping him from leaving his friends long ago. 

sure, he would miss them but after their attitudes towards him after second year and ron especially last year, he knows they aren’t the best friends he can have. it’s times like this when he wishes he had done something earlier. they aren’t safe around him anymore, much less-so than before. it pains him so, but it’s for the best. 

and when september first comes, he’ll have to make his own way. he doesnt want any more attention on him even if that means lying about what he saw at the graveyard that night. he’s so,  so tired of being the centre of attention, negative or positive. 

whatever is warning him from staying too close to the light magic users is keeping him safe. he doesn’t know how he knows that, but it’s protecting him from something, that he is sure of. 

“charlie and bill are here!... oh, did i interrupt something..?” remus asks, the joy leaving his tone as he finds the two curled up together on the window seat. there may be no tears now but he can smell the salt in the air. 

“not at all. come on siri, let’s go!” harry says, pulling a facade on so fast sirius thinks he might get whiplash. he stares at harry incredulously for a moment and harrys smile turns more apologetic. he nods to the silent wish harry poses of letting the topic go. “i’ll go get hestia!” harry calls as he runs up the stairs. 

sirius sighs, swinging his legs off the seat and pressing his palms into his eyes harshly for a moment. 

“padfoot... are you alright?” remus asks softly, walking over to sit beside sirius. 

“i’m fine.” sirius lies and remus sense the lie but stays silent, knowing sirius will tell him if something truly is the matter. “or i will be.” remus easily picks up on the ‘i’ that’s used instead of ‘we’. 

“...is harry okay?” 

“i don’t know. i wish i did. you didn’t hear him remus, it was awful... he just wants to be a normal kid.” sirius repeats and remus sighs sadly, he thought harry might want as much. it’s why he treats him the way he does, sure there’s favouritism from him, but that’s been building up since he met harry on the train two years ago. he treats harry like his own, his cub, the way moony wants. to him, harry is a normal child, even if he never will be. 

“hey bill! hey charlie!” harry calls into the kitchen as he bounds inside, hestia following quickly after him muttering about how he’ll slip and crack his head open if he keep running. 

“i was told there is a dragon.” charlie grins widely and bill snorts at the very charlie greeting. 

“right here. this is hestia!” harry says, grabbing the little dragon with his seeker reflexes and holding her up to charlie. 

charlie holds his hand out expectantly and harry drops her into the older mans palm. bill blushes embarrassedly when his stomach growls audibly. 

“i was just about to make lunch actually.” harry says, turning to the fridge. 

“you don’t have to harry—“

“he wants to. there’s no point arguing or you’ll be no better than your mother!” sirius answers for harry with a groan as he walks in with remus following behind. 

“ *speaker harry, what is the red man doing to me!* ” hestia shrieks when charlie starts to open her wings up. charlie, having dealt with dragons from their births, knows just how to open and check them over subtly, without causing worry. it’s that exact movement that causes hestia to panic, she can see the man moving her wings but cannot feel it. charlie just muses how much easier it is to do this when they’re asleep. 

“*he is checking your wings, he works with dragons so do not worry.* ” parseltongue always sounds a lot more formal. it’s harder to get the words meaning through to hestia sometimes as well seeing as she isn’t a snake. 

“you can speak to her?” charlie asks, practically vibrating with excitement. bill snorts at his brother, ignoring the glare it gets him. 

“she wanted to know what the red man was doing to her.” harry indulges, happy charlie doesn’t flinch away from his skills like the others have. 

they walk on eggshells around him every time he’s talking to hestia and it’s infuriating. the research on parselmouths in the library showed they originated in india not even with salazar slytherin. he wonders if that’s how snake charmers work and they don’t even realise it. ...he wonders if voldemort ever got annoyed with the way people fear the language. he’d ask, but you know, enemies and all those shenanigans. 

harry pauses, when did he start thinking of voldemort so casually? the usual hate that comes to life when he thinks of the man is barely more than a shade. where is the passion filled hatred he used to feel? 

it’s... gone? isn’t that a scary thought.harry pushes those thoughts from his mind, he has no need to dwell on his emotions right now. he can’t afford to get so lost in them that the others become aware. 

“she’s like a small version of the one from your first task.” charlie observes. 

“she is a small version. i pulled her out of the bag. i’m not quite sure how exactly she was created now that i think about it. she eats even though she doesn’t have to and she speaks to me so she can’t be not-alive.” harry remarks to the older boy who looks at him in wonder. 

“i’m really sorry i didn’t come and see you before the task! i tried but we were needed to keep the dragons at bay. did ron ever tell you about them in the end? i know he was being a git to you because he was jealous.” charlie says, making sirius and remus turn to stare at harry with a heavy gaze that means he’ll have to explain. harry turns to charlie with furrowed brows. “the twins wrote to me about it.” he answers. 

“no, he didn’t tell me. hagrid showed me. however, hermione told me that seamus told ron, that dean was told by parvati that hagrid was looking for me.” harry states tonelessly and sirius bursts out into bewildered laughter. 

“you remember that whole thing...?” hermione asks softly from the door. 

“what are friends for?” harry says dismissively. hermione winces, knowing his deserved that. 

“i’m sorry harry. i don’t know why i’ve been acting like this lately.” she whispers softly as she walks over to the stove. 

harry sighs, he may know he’s going to lose his friends but only because they won’t agree with his views. they’ve been changed rapidly since his conversations with the portraits increased, his views that is. 

they can never go back to the way they were before. harry has changed too much; the two of them haven’t changed enough and never will. but maybe he can stay civil. maybe hermione has been terrible to him over the past week but she’s trying to apologise, he guess that’s worth something. 

“it’s alright.” he sighs again, ignoring the burning glare sirius fixes on him. “i forgive you but that doesn’t mean i forget what you’ve said and done.” he whispers back. 

“okay. that’s fair. ...i’ll see you later.” hermione quietly says, tears in her eyes because she’s caught onto the fact they cannot fix their friendship as well. 

she leaves the room as quick as she came in and harry turns back to cooking. 

remus gives sirius a stern look before he walks over to join harry. sirius rolls his eyes and joins the two eldest weasleys in a conversation about quidditch. 

“was that wise?” remus asks gently as he helps distribute the chicken onto trays. 

“we can’t be friends like we were before. too much has happened over the last year and this time they haven’t been here for me. i’ve changed too much to be the harry they know and want back.” harry informs remus. 

remus frowns at the smaller boy, wondering if there’s other meanings behind his words. “surely they’ll still be your friends though... the three of you have been through everything together.” remus whispers gently to the boy. harry winces slightly. 

“this summer... something happened. i’m a different person than i was before the dementor attack remus. i cant just forget what happened that night and they weren’t there for me after that. i really needed someone then.” harry mumbles to the werewolf, conscious of his words as he avoids the subject of what happened in the house. 

“...something happened after the attack?” remus asks carefully, not wanting to upset harry the way the others have when prying. 

“i don’t want to talk about it...” harry chokes out, turning away from the older man so he can’t see the tears building up. 

remus frowns, exchanging a look with sirius over his head. sirius’ eyebrows furrow as he takes in harry’s shaky hands. 

“you alright pup?” sirius asks softly as he ruffles harry’s hair, moving to stand next to him. harry nods with a shaky smile turns back to cooking. 

“the trial is tomorrow.” bill starts carefully as they settle into the living room, charlie still playing with hestia who’s happily bouncing around him now that she knows he works with their kind. 

“it’s pointless and way over the top for a patronus. if i hadn’t cast it, dudley would’ve died. you’re supposed to be allowed to use magic in life threatening situations. it’s not like he’s unaware of magic either! he’s lived with me for years he knows exactly what magic is!” harry sighs, batting hestia away from his face as he pulls out a spell book. 

“...he’s magically aware?” bill asks slowly, his eyebrows drawing together as he looks to the fire, deep in thought about something. 

“well i assume so considering he’s had magic cast on him before by hagrid and he was there was hagrid told me everything.” harry shrugs helplessly. 

“hagrid? what did hagrid tell you?” charlie asks bewildered as remus and sirius enter the room with a tray of tea with biscuits on. 

“hagrid told me that i was a wizard and that my parents didn’t die in a car crash as drunks like i was told growing up. he told me what i mean and took to me to diagon alley to get my things for hogwarts when i turned eleven.” harry misses the looks passed around the room, immersed in his book. 

“hagrid isn’t allowed to cast magic, he got expelled...” remus points out awkwardly. 

“he used his umbrella. i always assumed dumbledore let him use it anyways because hagrid was framed for opening the chamber of secrets by tom.” harry bites his lip, he does miss tom in all honesty, the boy helped him through a lot. he was the nicest person harry had ever met at that point. 

“i thought mcgonogall collected all the muggleborns.” charlie adds as he throws little pieces of biscuit for hestia to catch. 

“i’m not a muggleborn though, am i?” harry rolls his eyes and carries on reading, not really understanding why they’re making such a big deal out of the whole thing. 

“hagrid doesn’t have the proper authority to introduce you to the wizarding world.” sirius states somewhat angrily, albeit angry on harry’s behalf. 

“what’s done is done. none of us can changed what happened.” harry states, finality in his voice as he wrinkles his nose unhappily. 

“the ministry aren’t going to go easy on you...” remus sighs, watching harry carefully for any signs of pain like he has been all week, moony watching behind his eyes as well. 

“well that’s dumbledore’s fault. he shouldn’t of riled them up in the first place. why don’t they just ask me to submit my memories instead of slandering me when i have no access to fix their work.” harry sniffs in dismissal, it truly is all dumbledore’s fault it got so bad. why did the man have to push them to publish his return, it’s better the public don’t believe it, there’s no reason to pointlessly scare them when voldemort hasn’t been active besides the azkaban breakout a few days ago. 

“professor dumbledore, harry.” sirius reprimands halfheartedly, he isn’t too keen on the man either at this point. 

“what’re you reading about?” bill asks, leaning over the back of harry’s armchair to look at the book. “that’s not in english.” he frowns, trying to read the book. 

“yes it is?” harry looks up to the boy before glancing back at the pages. 

“it’s all squiggly!” bill exclaims, gesturing frantically. 

sirius stands up, eyeing the book with distaste as he looks over it. “it’s not english.” he confirms and harry narrows his eyes, leaning back to get a better look at the words when they aren’t moving. 

in hindsight, the moving words should’ve been the first sign it’s not written in english. the words slowly change in front of his eyes until he’s left with a bunch of curly lines. “ah, it’s parseltongue.” harry timidly admits after just finding out himself. he eyes sirius for a similar reaction to the other day but sirius sighs, patting harry’s head before moving back over to remus. 

as much as he wants to take the book from harry, he doesn’t want to upset the boy. remus nudges him with a proud smile, glad he didn’t upset harry again. 

“what did harry say that put you so on edge today?” remus asks as he plops down on the couch besides sirius, handing a butterbeer over to sirius who swigs it gratefully. 

“he said... did you know harry’s killed people?” he deadpans and remus startles, looking at him like he’s lost his mind. 

for one, it’s highly unbelievable harry is capable of killing someone and two harry doesn’t have the heart to kill someone —or want to kill someone as sirius has learned. 

remus gingerly puts the back of his hand to sirius’ forehead, feeling for his temperature. “have you been drinking?” he asks carefully and sirius scowls at him. 

“earlier harry told me that he had to kill two people even though he didn’t want to. professor quirrell and some tom riddle.” sirius sighs to himself, standing up to get some stronger alcohol. he wouldn’t be going with harry tomorrow anyways so it didn’t matter if he got a hangover as long as he took a potion before harry got back. 

“...i heard rumours about that when i was teaching at hogwarts. i suppose some of them were true after all.” remus remembers all the horrible rumours that were spread about harry while he was teaching, it was horrifying what kids could make up and harry didn’t even notice or he was very good at hiding it. 

it’s probably the latter, with the way harry tried to hide his condition from them he knew of it previously and hadn’t bothered mentioning it. 

does his cub really think that low of himself? he doesn’t know how important he is to remus and sirius, not just because he’s the saviour. he’s like a son to them even if he doesn’t know it. 

dumbledore is really starting to piss him off, he’s causing more harm than good. voldemort wasn’t even active before the breakout and he still rambled on about some nonsense that didn’t add up. 

“i cant believe dumbledore wouldn’t tell us that!” sirius growls, his glass shattering as his magic lashes out. “what the fuck does the old man think he’s doing? he’s only making harry worse!” sirius shouts angrily and remus lets him fume. 

it’s true, something more had happened after the dementor attack —although remus cannot be sure exactly what if harry doesn’t tell him— harry had smelt different when he arrived, more like his cub than ever. harry hadn’t been lying when he told remus he changed, something had physically happened to change his scent. 

“at this point he’s just pushing harry to fight with voldemort!” they both freeze at sirius’ words, realising just how true they could come to be. 

“oh merlin...” remus whispers horrified, he knows harry might not fight for them but he can also see harry going to the dark lord. “he’d be safer there.” remus scoffs out, the order was doing nothing but offending harry by now and he probably would be safer with voldemort than in a room where people shoot spells at him for stupid things. 

“remus!” sirius accuses horrified. 

“no, think about it sirius! he’s not safe here! dumbledore is using him and we both know it! he doesn’t even want to fight anyways!” remus argues back. sirius’ eyes widen and he slumps into his chair, chugging the bottle of whiskey. 

“we’ll go with him if he goes...” sirius whispers finally and remus is stunned at the easy submission. “ if he goes. i’d do anything for him remus, i can’t lose him too.” sirius mumbles and remus nods in agreement. 

“he made harry murder people.” remus speaks into the silence and sirius winces slightly. “if we leave with him, we have to fight with whoever he chooses.”

“what if he chooses himself. remus, i don’t care who he fights for because i’m fighting for harry and harry alone.” sirius growls. 

“he’s changed but i still don’t think he’d choose himself. i didn’t know if he was just being dramatic earlier but harry isn’t a dramatic person. he told me something happened after the dementor attack but won’t tell me what happened.” remus informs sirius. 

the two of them have gone through the same routine every night since harry got here. they exchange anything knew they find out from harry or just talk about him in general. 

they want to help harry, but he’s not letting them. 

“montague, for salazar’s sake, put a bloody shirt on before felix decides to strangle your ass again!” augustus barks. rodolphus, throwing his arm around his little brothers shoulder, watches the chaos break out. 

“he’s just mad his body doesn’t look like mine!” montague shouts across the room, dodging various things thrown his way by aforementioned felix. 

“i’d be mad to want to look like you!” felix yells before he pounced onto montague’s back, pinning him to the floor as he straddles the mans waist. montague winks at him suggestively and felix growls, holding his hand out to lucius who sighs and throws a shirt his way. 

felix grins madly as antonin grabs montague’s arms helping felix wrestle the shirt onto the struggling man. he sighs in satisfaction when montague glares unhappily at him but keeps the shirt on anyways. 

“looking fine blondy!” vienna catcalls to lucius as she enters to room, bellatrix not far behind. bellatrix grins, running over to his husband and brother in law to pull them into a hug. rodolphus smiles back while rabastan stands there between the two, highly unimpressed. 

“is that a compliment i hear?” snape gasps in sarcasm, looking away from a heavily disheveled lucius to find vienna grinning her trademark cheshire cat grin. 

lixian saunters up behind lucius, throwing an arm around his waist and pulling him into his side with a grin. “did you miss us sweetheart?” he crows, watching in amusement as lucius blushes faintly, looking away from lixian as he remembers their many times hooking up. 

“help me!” lucius waves his hands urgently at severus who looks away like he saw nothing. 

“now now children, leave poor lucius alone.” a velvety voice calls out and they all turn to find the dark lord walking into the room, nagini hot on his tail. 

“as my lord commands.” lixian sighs and lets go of the man who quickly but elegantly, walks away to stand next to severus, a safe distance from both lixian and vienna. 

“it’s so good to have you all back!” tom declares, clapping his hands once. vienna quickly becomes distracted with nagini, throwing up mice for the snake to catch with a childish grin. “please, come and joinus for the meeting.” tom orders, walking back out the way he came, all twelve death eaters following after him, vienna with a happy nagini around her shoulders. 

when they’re settled at the long dining table of malfoy manor with the rest of the death eaters, tom calls the meeting into session. as usual, he starts off with severus, the one who’s bound to have some information from the order meeting two days ago. 

“severus, i’m sure you have new data for us.” tom waves his hand, obliging the mans silent plea. severus has been desperate to tell him something but he’s been unable to catch tom when he isn’t busy. 

“as you know, there was an order meeting three days ago. the meeting started later than usual as potter cooked dinner. when asked why he says and i quote ‘i don’t really care that there’s an order meeting.’ when dumbledore finally arrived there was even more commotion as potter was quickly led from the room by the wolf because the granger girl had cast a hex at him. according to black, potter is still sick and has been vomiting and coughing up blood. the rest of the meeting was spent as usual, gathering information on the escapees and dumbledore questioning me about our last meeting from four days ago.” severus informs. 

“do we have a reason for the coughing up blood?” tom asks, frowning to himself. he’s sure he’s heard someone having those symptoms before, it’s just on the top of his tongue but he can’t reach it. 

“black informed us that it was due to the boy not drinking anything after the dementor attack. i do find myself wondering why the boy gave them such a lie when it’s entirely unrealistic. i do not have the reason to why he’s been so sick but i shall do my best to find out.” severus announces and tom nods in contemplation. 

“does anyone here know what coughing up blood could be a symptom of?” tom asks to the room. he nods to corban yaxley as he coughs to gain his lords attention. 

“it may be a symptom of magic residue in his lungs, my lord, or something may have ruptured a blood vessel. it could also be due to other intimate acts that would be seemingly... nonconsensual.” tom grimaces at corbans words, hoping that last part is not the case. severus feels his throat tighten at the notion, promising to mention it to lupin or black. he may not like either of them or the boy but the boy is still fifteen. 

“it might be a muggle disease.” lixian calls up, leaning back away from the table, swinging in his chair. the dark lord gestures for him to elaborate. “there’s bronchitis which is a throat infection. congestive heart failure which means the heart works less efficiently. pneumonia which is inflammation of the lungs. it could be from some sort of trauma like a car accident. or it could be lung cancer.” lixian, being a half-blood, has seen these diseases and had some of them first hand. 

“could also be just straight up cocaine!” vienna adds, happy to participate. tom sighs to himself, things have been complicated immensely. 

“i shall check up on it my lord.” severus says with a similarly disgruntled look on his face. 

“is there anything else you can add severus?” tom asks, eyeing the man for any signs of lying. 

“potter has a dragon from the first task. one of the figurines they put in the bags for the choosing ceremony. he’s named her hestia. i suspect he’ll be taking her with him to the trial tomorrow as the weasley clan keep trying to get rid of her when he’s not in the room.” he wasn’t sure if he should inform his lord about the dragon as she’s harmless but it gives a big of insight to the growing feud between potter and the weasleys. 

“ah, yes. potter has the trial tomorrow, does he not?” tom turns to lucius who nods in confirmation. “who is attending the wizengamot for this unnecessarily over the top trial?” tom asks with a lazy smirk. he hears some muffled snickers at his comment and huffs to himself. 

a few hands go up at the question and he nods. “i want you to observe the boy. something has happened and i want to figure it out before the old coot does.” they nod and tom sighs, collecting his thoughts. 

“what’s on your mind my lord?” corvus asks, gesturing to the man around the wine glass in his hand. 

“early this morning, i accessed potters mind again.” he frowns to himself, he’s certain something was pushing him out seeing as he only got the briefest flickers. “the diggory boy was a hufflepuff was he not.” tom asks carefully. 

severus sits up, this is news to him. “he was my lord.”

“i had brief glimpses of potters dream... nightmare?” he hesitates in what to call it. “there was a badger in hufflepuff clothes and potter knew i was there as he kept glancing my way. i got glimpses of a field and the badger. finally something pushed me out of his mind when he was pushed into a well by an invisible entity. potter did not seem worried about my presence.” he divulges, struggling to put into words what he saw into words, it was very brief and he was not able to stay long. 

“he pushed you out of his mind, my lord?” severus has to admit to himself, that’s a highly impressive feat. 

“no.” severus startles, he’s sure his lord just told them so. “something else is in his mind.” the dark lord hesitated, severus saw his lack in information for what it was —the dark lord has no idea why he was pushed out of potter’s mind but it felt like something else was there, so that’s what he blamed his defeat on. he does not want to blame potter himself as it would be more of a compliment than an insult if it’s not true. 

“something besides yourself, my lord?” lucius asks, frowning as well now. 

“something else was pushing me out of potter’s mind while the boy was too busy running. i do not believe potter himself pushed me out albeit he may have. if it wasn’t potter himself, something is protecting his mind for him.” tom decides. “severus, you haven’t, by any chance, used legilimency on the boy recently, have you?” tom stares at severus, watching the potions master flick through his mind for memories of the past few interactions with potter. 

“i have been unable to my lord as the boy does not meet anyone’s eyes.” severus finalises. 

“the boy is aware of legilimency?” tom asks in confusion. 

“as far as i’m aware, he is not. it would be too risky for dumbledore to tell him as he’d then have to protect the boys mind and become unable to subtly look through potter’s mind.” it’s true, albus wouldn’t risk telling the boy in case it broke the already crumbling trust between the two. 

“he’s uses legilimency on the boy?” tom is surprised. he knows as a boy that the old man used it on him, but on his saviour, that is unexpected. “does he truly not trust the boy?” it’s the only conclusion he can come to. 

“potter has his secrets, even from his meddling friends. the headmaster doesn’t trust potter to tell him everything. lately, however, he has been unable to get near potter alone. therefore, he knows less about the dementor attack than we.” severus knows from the wolf’s surface memories that something more did indeed happen at the dementor attack, not that the wolf noticed anything last time he scanned the scarred mans thoughts, which was the order meeting from nearly a week ago when they collected the boy. 

“secrets.” tom hums, he himself is sure the boy hides things as any teenager goes but for albus to use legilimency, they must be more important than your average person’s secrets. “do you know what the boy is doing today? i rather doubt he’s preparing for the trial.”

“i’m quite sure the two eldest weasley children, charlie and bill have gone to visit. charlie works on a dragon enclosure in romania and bill had sent him a letter about hestia with the mutts consent.” severus knows bill would’ve visited today if not only to visit his brother than to keep potter company before the trial. 

“a dragon tamer? he must be useful to them.” tom isnt very sure how dragons would react if albus pushed them to fight for him. he can’t talk to dragons, however, whereas tom can. 

“he’s not a member of the order.” severus informs casually, getting a hint of his lords concerns. 

“what stance will he take in the war?” tom knows animal tamers are commonly pacifists. dragons as well, he has no doubt the man treats like his children, he would not use them in the war. then again he has a duty to his family so by extent the order. 

“he’ll most definitely stay neutral unless under immense pressure. seeing as his mother is molly weasley, he very well may give in to stop her screeching.” severus smirks slightly, charlie was a good student at school and he holds no grudges on the boy. 

“that woman is completely unbearable. worse than a banshee.” lucius wrinkles his nose. 

“let’s skin her!” vienna shouts happily, bellatrix cheering in agreement besides her. 

“how will we gain access to the boy so that we can retrieve the prophecy?” lixian pipes up, waving a dismissive hand at the two woman who are huddled together planning the weasley matriarch’s death. 

“we need access to hogwarts.” casper nods in confirmation to felix’s words, sitting silently next to the man, reading a book. the two of them work well together, casper liking quiet and felix hating rowdy people. 

“well there’s our first problem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Badger!Cedric: *screaming noises*
> 
> Voldemort: ...what the fuck??


	7. The Trial with a side of Bermuda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *is when my dumbass finally got her shut together and turned auto caps back on
> 
> ps it’s 24/7/20 and I’ve posted the first seven chapters now, I’ve started chapter 8 but I haven’t written in this section for a long time so please harass me to finish shit and not leave things unfinished xoxo cassie

a feeling of dread. that’s what kept harry up all night. he got maybe one hour of sleep maximum. 

something awful brewing in the pit of his stomach and it makes him feel uneasy. 

the measly minutes of sleep he did get were full of someone whispering to him in the same voice as the one who told him he’d be great. they kept going on and on about how they’d protect him, look after him. 

honestly, it did feel protective. that’s why harry woke up. 

he’s never felt cared for in such a strong way. his whole body was overwhelmed with a comfort he used to feel only when he was a child, the dark wrapping him in a loose hug. 

harry quickly waves his hand, casting a wandless tempus no matter how itchy it makes him feel. he sighs, seeing it’s still five in the morning and his hearing is scheduled for nine, four more hours. 

a sudden burst of energy fills him despite his sleep deprived state. he makes his way into the shower, sighing to himself again as he turns the water on. 

the cuts he made on his arms had scarred now, three thick, vertical silver, lines underneath the two vertical ones. 

*He’s not sure if he regrets marking his skin like that. He knows it’s extremely unhealthy to hurt oneself but he can’t see himself regretting it. Hurting himself proved he was still alive, still himself. He supposes it’s still as suiting as it was last time he thought of it, one mark for each life he took. 

He sighs, pouring shampoo into his hair. Harry feels like he should dress a bit better than his usual rags, something not too casual but not too formal so they don’t get the wrong idea of him trying to buy his way out of it. 

His body keeps urging him to hurry up so, Harry huffs and quickly finishes washing up, relishing in the fluffy towels in his en-suite. 

...His en-suite.  His room. 

He’s never had his own room before. His heart clenches painfully at the realisation. 

It was the cupboard, then Dudley’s second room, then gryffindor tower and now he has  his room. 

He supposes that, ultimately, it was his cupboard in the end. He was the only one who used it. He wonders if it’s the reason he finds so much comfort in the dark, because Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would never go after him when he was in his cupboard. 

It’s with a start he realises he may never have to go back to the Dursley’s. They are, after all, not alive anymore. 

The blood wards won’t survive if they aren’t alive. That’s a totally different thing to worry about though and Harry decides not to dwell on that right now. 

He pulls on a pair of black jeans and a white button up shirt, then pulls a blazer over that. 

Staring in the mirror, Harry wonders when he changed this drastically. His eyes look brighter and his hair looks darker —it’s more tameable as well, not it’s usual birds nest. 

That makes Harry wonder, he knows his magic changed, but why would it affect his hair? 

He ruffles his hair, turning to walk out of his room, down the stairs and into the kitchen. 

“Boy!” Harry flinches and whirls around to find the source of the voice, praying to anyone who’s listening that it’s not Vernon. 

The quiet woman is sitting the usually empty frame that resides in the kitchen. “Ma’am...?” He asks quietly, his brows furrowing as he stares at her, the dark magic dancing across the glass covering. 

“I wanted to wish you good luck. On your trial, that is. You rescued my son.” She says awkwardly, shifting as she purposefully glances away from him. 

“Oh, thank you! Do you think I dressed alright?” He asks her and she nods in confirmation. 

He sits down at the table, playing with his fingers as he waits for Arthur to take him to the ministry like they planned. 

“Why’re you so antsy?” This portrait is obviously in an unusually talkative mood. Harry thinks that underneath his annoyance, he might appreciate the company. 

“I just have a gut feeling, like I feel as though we need to go to the ministry earlier and it’s making me fidget. I’m sorry if it’s distracting you.” He mumbles sheepishly, his face flushing slightly at being called out. 

“Do not apologise, silly boy. I was the one who asked the question, was I not?” She’s been observing Harry all week, since he arrived. He captivates them all with his mere presence. 

Harry nods, sniffing slightly as Hestia flies through the door. He’d left her to sleep —even if she doesn’t need sleep, she’s extremely lazy. 

“Harry, I’m glad to see you’re awake!” Arthur says as he hustles in, remus and sirius already chatting at the table near Harry. 

“Mr Weasley, would it be alright if we left a little earlier so that you can show me some of the ministry?” Harry asks gently, ignoring the dark gazes he receives from his godfathers. 

“Are you quite certain, Harry? I didn’t think you’d want to be there any earlier than you had to. You also need to eat something before we go.” Arthur soothes, picking his coat up anyways. 

“I don’t think I can stomach anything right now, Mr Weasley. I just want to get this over with.” Harry sighs, Hestia bumping his face comfortingly. 

“Well, grab your wand then and we’ll get going.” Arthur says, smiling widely as he pulls on his hat. 

“Are you sure you want to go now, Harry? It’s very early, the trial isn’t for another two hours.” Remus says, eyeing the clock on the wall. 

“I need to go.” Harry answers vaguely which doesn’t help them at all. “I’ll go get my wand.”

“It’s not on you?” 

Harry shakes his head at Sirius’ accusing question, taking off upstairs to grab his wand out of his trunk. 

After opening his trunk he stares at his wand contemplating, before gingerly picking it up with his hand covered in his sleeve, wrinkling his nose slightly. 

His wand still has residue light magic from the patronus. It feels... wrong to hold. He doesn’t need his wand to do magic anymore and he can’t help but think if a wand centres his control, that he will overpower a spell and hurt someone in the process. 

He’s not too keen on testing his theory. 

Hurrying back downstairs, Harry gives a tentative smile to the three adults. Sirius sighs and stands up, pulling him into a hug. 

“Good luck, okay pup? I know you’ll do amazing.” He smiles, ruffling Harry’s hair. 

Harry steps back only to be swooped into Remus’ arms next. He smiles into the hug, Remus has always been a lot more accepting of darker magic due to his status and Harry can see it on his clothes. He burrows closer, clutching Remus’ shirt slightly. 

“Don’t lose your temper, okay? They can use it against you. Dumbledore told us he has a plan. You’ll be fine.” Remus mumbles, the second part more hesitant than the first. 

Harry wonders if they’ve started to doubt Dumbledore too. He’ll have to ask when he gets back. 

“Ready to go then, Harry!” Arthur exclaims, clamping a hand onto Harry’s shoulder. 

Harry winces slightly, his magic had started acting up against light magic again this morning. It’s not as painful but it’s more responsive to even neutral magic today. Harry thinks it’s because of his nerves acting up and his magic wanting to protect him. ...Or whatever was talking to him this morning trying to protect him. 

“We’re taking the visitors route today!” Arthur exclaims as they make their way out of the house. 

He leads them down to the train station and they enter the London Underground. 

“The London Underground?” Harry asks, watching the crowds go past with only a few hints of magical persons nearby, their magic bright in crowds of muggles. 

They make it to the gate and Harry watches in amusement as Arthur awes at the muggles scanning their tickets. 

Harry watches him walk into the barrier a few times with a frown on his face before stepping in. 

“Mr Weasley...” Harry prompts, the man turns to him questioningly. “Like this...” He exaggerates his movements, showing him the ticket and putting it into the gate. 

Arthur gasps and walks backwards through the gate, letting out a sound of awe. “Genius these muggles...” He smiles and Harry follows him through, raising an eyebrow slightly. 

Harry can’t help but wonder why they thought it was the best idea to let Mr Weasley take him to the ministry, let alone through the muggle way when they know very well the man hasn’t the slightest clue about muggles. 

At least, Harry supposes, he doesn’t look out of place himself. He looks like any business worker taking the underground but Arthur, his clothes look a tad... eccentric. 

Perhaps they’ll just take Arthur to be one of the vintage kind, an old school dweller. He stands out in his brightly coloured tan suit, however, and Harry has never been more glad that he kept to black and white. 

Sitting down on the train, Harry tries his hardest to look like he fits in here, which in hindsight is easier said than done. 

“What on Earth is that man on about, lad?” An elderly man on the seat next to where he’s standing asks. 

“He’s a foreigner.” Harry explains softly, already having the lie ready in his head for this exact question. 

“Really, where’s he from?” The man asks skeptically. 

“Bermuda.” Harry smiles awkwardly, not very up to date with geography after years of not learning it. He’s overheard this place being mentioned enough times on the television when he’s been cleaning or cooking though. He’s heard all sorts of weird things happen in Bermuda. 

“Like the triangle with the disappearing planes?” The man furrows his brows, Arthur’s weird behaviour seeming to make sense in a way to him now. 

“He’s seen things, not in the right mind honestly. It’s visitors day and I’ve been allowed to take him out to London.” Harry smiles slyly, while the man gives him a pitying look. 

“You look after him? You’re a child carer?” The man asks, his eyes softening now. Harry hates himself for taking advantage of such a vulnerable cause but he could be considered a child carer in a way; he cooked and cleaned for the Dursley’s and looked after himself, that’s almost similar. 

“My Uncle. I’ve looked after him since I was twelve when my Auntie passed away. I didn’t know them but it’s been three years so I’ve gotten used to it.” The woman next to the elderly man seems to be glaring at Arthur with that revelation and Harry prays he hasn’t said too much. 

“Do you need me to call someone, luv?” The woman asks him carefully, leaning over to get a better look at him. 

“No, it’s alright. I’m just taking him to where my Auntie used to work as a Lawyer. There’s no problems here I swear.” Harry quickly reassures, cursing himself for forgetting that being a child carer can be considered abuse in a way. 

“Are you parents around at least?” She asks carefully. 

Harry shakes his head, “my parents passed away when I was very young.” He says with a small sad smile. 

“Oh dear, I’m sorry luv!” She apologised quickly. 

“It’s quite alright, ma’am. I’d of asked the same question in your position.” He soothes and she smiles awkwardly. 

“Quite the charmer aren’t you lad?” The elderly man winks at him and Harry blushes, shaking his head quickly. “Don’t worry lad! Your secret is safe with me!” He exclaims and the three of them break out into laughter. Harry quickly muffles his chuckles with his hands when more people start curiously looking over their way. 

“Come on, Harry!” Arthur yells when the train stops and Harry can’t help but giggle with how untimely Arthur’s interruption was. 

“Stay safe, luv!” The lady calls as he waves at the two, leaving the train and following Arthur out of the station. 

“They seemed friendly.” Arthur inquires. 

It’s something Harry’s noticed. No matter how much wizards say they don’t mind muggles there’s still something that shows their dislike or in Arthur’s case his fascination. It’s like the man doesn’t truly think of them humans, just some fascinating creatures that only have means to make things for them. It unsettles Harry in all honesty because he doesn’t see the problem with muggles nowadays but the rest of the Wizarding World is stuck in the olden days when war was happening. Ron does the same thing, he disregards anything Harry or Hermione bring up from their lives back home. Harry knows that muggles are dangerous, nuclear weapons are proof of that but the rest of the wizards treat them like annoying bugs that can easily put out. Harry knows they won’t go down without a fight, they have learnt absolutely nothing from the Witch Burnings. 

“They were very nice, yes.” Harry agrees easily, following Arthur through the streets, trying his best to avoid the mans hands when he tries to grab Harry to pull him in a certain direction. 

“What were you talking about?” He asks, watching the cyclists in fascination. 

“Global warming, it’s a muggle term.” Harry lies smoothly. 

Arthur hums, making a noise of accomplishment as they turn the next corner. “Here we are! I’ve never used the visitors entrance before, this should be interesting!” Arthur exclaims, opening the telephone booth for Harry. 

So, first of all they choose Arthur to send him and secondly Arthur has never even used the visitors entrance. He’s beginning to think even Professor Snape would’ve been a better option at this point. 

Harry raises an eyebrow at the telephone box with a light sniff. He scans over the box amused by the ‘inconspicuous’ graffiti about some ‘LVD’s defeat’. Subtle, Harry hums to himself. 

“Let me just get some of my muggle money. You’ll have to explain this global warming thing to me later Harry!” Arthur cheers and pushes some money into the coin slot before typing a certain number. Harry can’t help but be reminded of the entrance to diagon alley with the way Arthur pushes the buttons so carefully. 

Harry grits his teeth, pushing himself into the corner of the phone booth so Arthur’s magic can’t reach him. 

The elevator starts to move and Harry holds his breath, watching the phone booth move down like an elevator. “This reminds me of elevators.” Harry voices his thoughts, regretting that as soon as he watches the mans eyes light up. 

They reach what Harry assumes to be the atrium in the ministry, the place packed full of people even though it’s so early. Harry walks next to Arthur, cringing away from glaring beams of magic as he follows the redhead through the crowd. 

Harry’s never been around so much magic at one time and he wishes to the above that it would just dim before he gets even more nauseous. He wishes he had a forewarning but no one knows about this new weird magic sight thing he has going on. 

“Dumbledore is he daft or is he dangerous?” A man selling newspapers shouts.  Both , Harry wants to confirm as he watches wizards and witches flood into the atrium through the floo in a flash of green fire. 

Harry follows Arthur into a very cramped shaft and grimaces at the claustrophobic aspect of it all. Arthur greets some of the other occupants before explaining the paper airplanes to Harry. 

Raising an eyebrow he follows Kingsley with his eyes as he bustles in, whispering into Arthur’s ear. “Merlins beard, thank you Kingsley. It appears they’ve changed the time of your hearing Harry.” Arthur tells him and Harry’s chest flares in recognition, this is why he wanted to be here early. 

“When is it?” He asks, eyeing the time on the wall, half seven in the morning. 

“Thirty minutes.” He informs. 

“Good thing we came here early then isn’t it?” Harry jokes and Arthur flushes slightly. 

“Department of Mysteries!” The lift announces after a painfully long ten minutes surrounded by sweaty ministry workers. 

Harry quickly trails after Arthur, slowing when he hears voices. He looks down one of the halls to see Lucius Malfoy talking to the Minister. He waves slightly and hurries after Arthur before the man notices he’s gone. 

“Remember, Harry, only speak when spoken to.” Arthur tells him as if he doesn’t already know this fact from years of overhearing the crime programs Aunt Petunia loves blasting through the speakers in the living room. His chest pinches painfully as he remembers his Aunts dead eyes, not out of grief but from guilt. “Remember, you haven’t done anything wrong! What is it muggles say... ah, yes. Truth will out!” He says and Harry hums nonchalantly. “I’m not allowed in I’m afraid Harry, good luck!” Arthur tells him and Harry nods, walking towards the door and entering the empty courtroom. 

The room is barren and reminds Harry off the inside of a cauldron, all the Wizengamot being little ingredients in a botched potion. Harry rolls his eyes when he’s encased loosely in chains. He’s glad he’s not bound to the chair or in a cage like he remembers Karkaroff being however. 

“Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August, into offences committed under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Statute of Secrecy by Harry James Potter, resident at number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. Interrogators: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister for Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Court Scribe, Percy Ignatius Weasley —" Minister Fudge immediately starts, a scowl on his face at not being able to make Harry late, something Harry is very proud of his intuition for. He’s then cut off by the arrival of Dumbledore and Harry gags as the mans sickly magic blinds the room. 

He’s also just announced Harry’s address to the entire ministry personal and Voldemort has Harry’s blood. These people aren’t exactly smart are they? Harry catches Lucius Malfoy’s eyes lighting up and inwardly sighs, knowing he too caught onto the address. 

“Witness for the defence, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.” Oh, is he now. This part is news to Harry. 

Harry doesn’t understand why Dumbledore wouldn’t just tell him he’d be here. Sure, he’s not happy at all to see the man especially after restricting his contacts over the summer —leading to horrific loneliness and the loss of his best friends— but it would’ve been nice to know. 

“You, you got our message that the time and place of the hearing had been changed, did you?” Fudge stutters, his eyes widening at the prospect of being caught in front of the whole Wizengamot evident. 

“I must have missed it. But by a happy mistake I arrived at the Ministry three hours early.” Dumbledore drawls. It sounds so Snape like Harry wonders if the man truly is a gryffindor. It doesn’t seem that way lately with all his intricate plans. Sure, Ron can play chess but he can’t play chess-master the way Dumbledore does. “The charges?” Dumbledore asks lazily. The man definitely doesn’t care, Harry’s anger boils slightly as the man keeps his back to him.  Coward . 

“The charges against the accused are as follows; that he did knowingly and in full awareness of the illegality of his actions, produced a Patronus charm in the presence of a Muggle. Do you deny producing said Patronus?” Fudge looks down at him over his glasses and Harry is grateful that gets Dumbledore to shift from his line of sight. 

Harry sees no point in denying the accusations, “no.” He says simply. The ministry are slandering him enough, he doesn’t want to bother even trying to get them to see his reasons. 

“And you were aware that you were forbidden to use magic outside school while under the age of seventeen?” The man says abruptly as if he was going to interrupt Harry from continuing to talk. Fudge slows down when he doesn’t see Harry fighting back however, suspicion evident in his eyes. 

“Yes.”  But you’re also the one who told me blowing up Marge won’t put me in azkaban , Harry thinks sharply, keeping his expression blank. 

“Witches and wizards of the Wizengamot—“ He stands, glee showing on his greasy face. 

“He only cast the charm because of the dementors.” Dumbledore interrupts, his voice booming through the room. Harry wonders if the man is using a sonorous, he wouldn’t doubt it. 

“Dementors? In little Whinging?” Amelia Bones, Susan’s Aunt, Harry’s mind helpfully supplies. She sounds as unbelieving as the actual incident was. 

“That's quite clever. Muggles can't see Dementors, can they boy? Highly convenient.” Fudge directs at Harry who merely shrugs, he doesn’t know if the dementors can be seen by muggles just as he didn’t know the knight bus couldn’t. 

“There were two dementors that night, Cornelius—“ Dumbledore starts with a raised eyebrow, his expression grim. 

“Enough! I'm sorry to interrupt what I'm sure would have been a very well rehearsed story, but since you can produce no witnesses of the event—“ Fudge erupts, scowling ya Dumbledore. 

“Pardon me Minister, but as it happens we can.” Dumbledore smirks gleefully. 

“We haven’t got time to—“ he tries anxiously. 

“I may be wrong, but I do believe that it says somewhere in the Wizengamot Charter of Rights that the accused has the right to present a witness to prove his or her case? In fact, I do believe I wrote that particular bit myself.” Except, Harry hasn’t presented a witness, he wants to point out and he can see Malfoy whispering to the blond man next to him, probably about the same thing. 

“Very well. Weaslebee, fetch the witness.” Percy’s face still flames at the butchered name and Harry stands up, letting the chains fall away as he moves to the stands on the side as directed. 

He pulls his legs close as he sits as near to the dark faction as he can, relishing in the dark magic that thrives there. 

Harry’s eyes darken as he watches Figg walk in, he knew there was something fishy about her presence there. He clenches his hands into fists, pulling his magic in so that it doesn’t attack her in front of so many witnesses he’d then have to dispose of and come up with a reasonable explanation of why he’s the only one left alive. 

He squeaks quietly as Hestia peeks out of his sleeve, he hadn’t even known she’d come with them. He looks around, figuring no one can see onto his lap as he angles his body away from everyone, pulling Hestia into his hands so that he can play with her and ignore the rest of the trial. 

“Is the boy really not listening?” Lucius whispers to Quinton, raising an eyebrow as he watches Potter angle his body away from everyone, fiddling with something in his hands. It’s ignorant in his opinion but probably for the best with Potter’s famous temper. 

“What’s in his hands?” Quinton asks, leaning forward to get a better look. 

“Full name?” Fudge asks the old woman. 

Lucius leans forward, pulling his wand out to cast a quick detection spell. He watches the boy freeze and turn his way as the spell hits. Lucius glares, the boy shouldn’t have sensed his spell as he couldn’t see it. 

“Arabella Doreen Figg, resident of Little Whinging.” 

“They still haven’t realised they’ve given up Potter’s address have they?” Corvus sighs beside him at the incompetence of the Wizengamot. 

“I cannot determine what it is.” Lucius answers Quinton with a frown, this hadn’t happened before. Quinton raises an eyebrow at him, amusement glinting in his eyes at being outdone by a teenager who hasn’t even moved. 

“Do you know who sent the dementors?” Evan asks. Lucius has been talking to the Minister earlier to figure out the attacker on his Lords orders. 

“Dolores Umbridge.” Lucius states blandly, not fond of the woman by any means. 

“Isn’t she the defense teacher next year?” Evan inquires besides him. 

“Yes. I shall be getting Draco to inform me of her doings during her no doubt one year time limit.” Lucius tells them, a silencing barrier around them now to stop eavesdroppers. The curse on the defense position is still in place and has been confirmed real by their Lord. 

“I shall get Theodore to report back as well.” Quinton finalises with a nod. 

“I was sitting on my porch when I saw the two dementors gliding towards the two boys.” The witness says. 

“Very interesting that she happened to be around just in time to spot the dementors, is it not?” Evan mumbles, grimacing at the woman’s ghastly croaky voice. 

“What did the dementors look like?” Madam Bones asks. 

“She always was the smartest employee here.” Corvus sneers slightly, wondering why these questions weren’t asked to the Potter boy instead. 

“Well, they were big and wore great, tattered cloaks.” The Wizengamot start to mumble to each other. 

“Anyone could’ve given her a description to speak.” Quinton points out. 

“Anything else?” Madam bones asks cautiously, ignoring the warning glares from the minister. 

“I-I felt them. It was horrible... like I would never be happy again.” The woman stutters, a handkerchief wiping her eyes. 

“As if she’d be happy anyways, look at her.” Evan hisses and the others look at him in amusement, silently agreeing. Evan is their youngest so he’s still quite immature in most senses, especially in ministry work. He’s very impatient when it comes to Wizengamot trials, finding he could do so many other things with his time that would much more worthwhile. 

“Very well, you may go.” Fudge announces and the lady quickly leaves. 

“Squibs never stay in a room full of wizards for long.” Corvus notes, mirth clear in his eyes. 

“Not very convincing.” Fudge says at once and their eyes drift back over to Potter who still has his back to them all, everyone else ignoring him. 

“Oh, I disagree.” Madam Bones starts and everyone looks at her in bewilderment. “She described their effects extremely competently after all.” 

“So two dementors just happen to be in Little Whinging? I think not...” Fudge murmurs skeptically, his voice hesitant is that someone has voiced against him. 

“Potters going to get off.” Evan says at once and they agree albeit annoyed. They watch him and he doesn’t seem bothered by anything happening, stuck in his own little world. 

“Only the dementors are still taking their orders from the ministry alone these days.” Dumbledore retaliated and they watch Potter give one glance up at the words, his eyes scanning the crowd before the settle on Umbridge as she shifts uncomfortably. 

“Reckon he’s caught on?” Corvus asks, watching the boy slowly turn back away, his eyes narrowed on the woman before he turns back to his hands. 

“I’m not sure, it should be impossible he’s figured it out from that one glance, perhaps he’s simply questioning her ghastly fashion choices of that repulsive pink she insists on adding.” Evan teases, they always make fun of her for clothes seeing as they’re so bad on the eyes. 

“That’s more likely than him catching on to her involvement with the dementors, he’s as oblivious as they come.” Lucius drawls. 

“Excuse me, Mr Dumbledore, but it seems to me that you just accused the Ministry of Magic of ordering the dementors to attack the boy.” Umbridge speaks up, shifting into the light. They all turn her way, Potter still actively ignoring everyone’s presence. 

“The dementors are under ministry control exclusively so the blame of the attack can only lie to someone in the ministry.” Dumbledore points out unhelpful to his currently ruined reputation. “Logically, I’m sure the ministry will be making a full enquiry.” He adds with his usual cheery smile. 

“Dementors are irrelevant!” Fudge shouts angrily which is as confusing as it is bizarre seeing as the entire case bases on the dementors existence. 

“On the contrary, Cornelius. If they were there, then Harry was acting in self-defense, which is perfectly allowable under Clause Seven of the Decree of Reasonable Restriction of Underaged Wizardry.” He’s no doubt gone through the only laws that’ll save Potter’s skin. “We are all in agreement of this?” He addresses the room, specifically the light side of the courtroom. 

“I wonder if he always projects his favouritism like this or if he even asked the boy to use his first name.” Lucius wonders more to himself than his accomplices. 

“Well, yes. If he’s telling the truth!” Fudge accuses snidely. 

“You have heard it from eye witnesses, Cornelius.” The old man has the stupid glint in his eyes now. 

“Very well, all for clearing the accused of charges?” He hollers, surprise evident as Lucius and his group raise their hands. Dumbledore too, eyes them with suspicion. “All opposed?” He asks and only a few hands go up, Umbridge’s being one of them. “Fine! Cleared of all charges!” The man huffs like a child throwing a tantrum and slams the gavel down. 

They watch as Dumbledore leaves with only a fleeting glance at Potter who’s not looking his way. Potter looks up, locking eyes with Umbridge who glares at him. He smirks nastily and exits the hall. 

“Perhaps, he has caught on?” Quinton mumbles as everyone leaves the room. 

Lucius exits the hall with his three colleagues and stops when he spots Potter leaning against the wall outside, batting the little dragon flying in front of him. 

“He has the dragon.” Lucius confirms and they all turn to look at the boy. 

“He’s awfully small for a fifteen year old now that he’s up close.” Quinton mumbles and Lucius can’t help but agree internally. If Draco looked any where near emaciated as Potter does, he’d rain all hell down and even be inclined to put Draco on bed rest to shove food down his throat until he looked healthier. 

The dragon hisses something at the boy who turns to look at them, surprise in his eyes. “Oh... hello?” He asks hesitantly, his stance becoming a tad more defensive in their presence. 

“Well, well, Patronus Potter. I must say your escape was very lucky. Quite astonishing... snakelike, in fact.” He drones but Potter just tilts his head amusedly. 

“Is there something I can help you with?” Potter asks, glaring at the dragon when she hisses something to him. 

Lucius glances past him to the door leading to the Hall of Prophecies for the moment. Potter follows his gaze and turns back to him with furrowed brows. 

“Say, Mr Potter, isn’t someone coming to collect you?” Corvus steps in, eyeing the boy curiously. 

Potter stares warily at him for a moment before nodding, his expression relaxing again. “Mr Weasley.” He confides, poking the small dragon in his hand causing her to let out a breath of fire that has the men freezing before seeing it does no harm to the boy and therefore they cannot be blamed for anything. 

“Ah... you used the muggle entrance did you not?” Lucius asks and Potter nods, grimacing slightly. “I hope he did not reveal anything too incriminating of our kind?” Lucius asks and Potter’s eyes flash momentarily before he shakes his head. 

“As far as they know he’s my Uncle from Bermuda who I’ve taken out for the day to escape his hug-me jacket and visit my supposed dead Aunties law firm.” Potter shrugs, something flashing across his face slightly as he mentions the imaginary Aunt. 

Evan bursts out into laughter surprising them all. “What a glorious story Mr Potter, hug-me jacket indeed!” He exclaims and Potter smiles hesitantly at him. “How do you know what that is anyways? Please don’t tell me you chose muggle studies.” Evan looks positively horrified at the prospect of Potter taking muggle studies. 

Potter sways slightly and they all notice he’s looking a shade too pale. “Muggle raised.” He supplies with a shrug. 

“You were raised by muggles?!” Corvus exclaims and Potter jumps slightly as he shouts before nodding his head, his stance stiffening again. 

It’s then Lucius notices the boy doesn’t have his wand out even though all four of them do (or canes pointed in his general direction for quick access). “You do not have your wand out Mr Potter.” He notes slowly, the others turning to him questioningly. 

“Wand... I guess I don’t.” The boy says, looking down at himself. 

“Where is your wand Mr Potter?” Quinton asks gently and Potter pats his pockets down. 

“Probably with Mr Weasley...” Potter mumbles. 

The dragon hisses to him, tilting her head. Then to their complete surprise, Potter hisses back and all four of them freeze. 

“Apparently it’s with Mr Weasley.” He nods, turning back to face them. 

“Do you not feel threatened by our presence?” Lucius drawls, remembering he had in fact tried to kill the boy just a few years ago. He had regretted it afterwards, he’d let his anger lead him and he had vowed to fix his attitude after that. To go as low as to try and murder a twelve year old was revolting. 

“Well I don’t really know who any of you are besides Lord Malfoy and I assume you’re Lord Nott.” He says to Quinton while Lucius is momentarily stunned at being addressed as a Lord by the boy. 

“Why do you assume so?” Quinton asks, his eyes narrowing. 

“You look like Theodore Nott... or he looks like you I guess.” The boy replies, shrugging slightly. 

“You know my son?” Quinton asks, raising an eyebrow in surprise. Lucius would be surprised too if the boy is friends with his son alas he knows the feud between Draco and Potter is still strong. 

“We share a lot of classes with the Slytherins.” Potter explains. 

The boy’s head snaps around and he stumbles again, the dragon hissing something to him that makes him shake his head. They follow his line of sight and see Arthur Weasley hurrying down the corridor, speeding up when he sees them, a frantic look on his face. 

Percival Weasley takes that moment to step out of the courtroom. “Oh, hello Harry.” He greets politely. 

“Hi percy. How are you?” Potter asks, edging away from the approaching Weasley Patriarch. 

“Splendid. I suppose you’re waiting for my father?” He asks and they both wince slightly, intriguing the four men. 

“I suppose I am. Are you coming to visit anytime soon? You missed Charlie and Bill yesterday.” He offers and Percival looks stunned for a moment, obviously not having expected that. 

“The family and I are in a bit of a rough patch at the moment. I agreed with the Minister and they agreed with Dumbledore. I mean no offence when I tell you this, Harry.” The boy says and Potter nods understandingly. 

“It’s only sensible as you work for the man. Don’t worry, I’m not entirely sure what Dumbledore is spouting off about myself lately.” Potter agrees, surprising them all. 

“I see.” Percival tells him with a sly grin that Potter returns sheepishly. “You aren’t having any trouble with these men are you?” He asks, noticing the four men. 

“Lord Malfoy was just congratulating me, no need to worry.” Potter smiles indulgently. 

“I shall be going now before he starts another confrontation.” Percival says, wrinkling his nose at the sight of his father who’s just out of earshot. 

“Can’t be any worse than your mother.” Potter teases and they both nod exasperatedly. 

“Good luck this year, Harry. I hope you get well soon, I’ve been informed of your illness.” Percival expands and something flashes through Potter’s eyes. 

Potter shudders and nods, “thanks.” 

“Harry!” Arthur shouts and Percival brushes past the man without a second glance. 

He clamps his hand down on Potter’s shoulder and the boys eyes physically roll back as he stumbles away from the man, his frame trembling slightly as he brushes his shoulder off with shaking hands. They all see the disgust flashing in his eyes and look at Arthur warily. 

Evan moves to support the boy as Arthur ignores him to stare accusingly at Lucius. 

“Alright?” Evan asks softly, frowning at the lightness of the boy. He presses a hand to Potter’s forehead and Potter leans into his touch slightly, startling Evan. 

Potter steps back, smiling shakily at the other. “Harry Potter, pleasure to meet you.” He says and Evan nods, shaking the boys hand. 

“Evan Rosier.” Evan takes the boy’s hand, shaking it. “Merlin, you’re like ice.” He squeaks and rubs Potter’s hand between his. Potter laughs lightly, pulling away from the touch, less shaky than before. 

“What’re you doing to Harry?” Arthur accuses Lucius and the blond raises an eyebrow, stepping back to get the man out of his face while simultaneously watching Evan and Potter interact to the side. 

“They were asking me about the trial.” Potter pipes up, Evan carefully moving to rejoin them. 

“I don’t believe that for a second. When does a Malfoy, Lestrange or Nott ever compliment someone on escaping a trial?” Arthur asks weakly and Potter crosses his arms, as unimpressed as they are. 

“Now, obviously.” He turns to look at Corvus, a strange glint in his eye. “I don’t see why they wouldn’t, I don’t know about the others but Theodore Nott is nice enough and so far I haven’t seen Mr Nott act any differently.” Fascinating, how he stops calling them Lords as Weasley steps in, Lucius realises. 

“You can’t associate with those people, Harry! They work for you-know-who!” Arthur chides and Potter’s eyes narrow. 

“You can’t accuse people of working for the Dark Lord because of family feuds Mr Weasley it’s unbecoming and rude. Claiming they work for him isn’t the same as knowing they do and you don’t have any evidence.” Potter scolds and the men watch in wonder as he protects their honour. 

“Harry—“ Arthur starts, gesturing at them. 

“Let’s go Mr Weasley, I promised Padfoot I’d be back to make lunch. Let’s  not start another brawl right now and get arrested in the Ministry.” Potter rolls his eyes, stressing the last sentence. He turns to them, an apologetic smile on his face. “I apologise for Mr Weasley’s behaviour, he’s a bit wound up after the recent break out.” Potter says but his eyes are on Corvus, glinting knowingly. 

“Don’t worry about it, Mr Potter, his actions do not lie on your shoulders.” Evan soothes and Potter smiles slightly at him. 

“Until next time.” Potter says and turns, walking past Arthur who quickly runs after him. 

“Next time?” Quinton asks, confusion in his tone. 

“I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.” Corvus dismisses. “Come now, we must report to our Lord and tell him of this glorious encounter.”

Harry sighs when they eventually reach Grimmauld Place. Arthur had ranted about horrible Death Eaters the whole time they were on their way back. He’d even been scolding Harry on the tube for talking to them, so much so that someone tried stepping in when they saw how clearly uncomfortable Harry was. It’s not even like Arthur has any authority over him. Harry was just having a (weirdly pleasant) conversation with the men and Arthur had started in on him. 

The library had been supplying him with pureblood etiquette books that Harry was hesitant to read at first before figuring out it was showing him how to address any purebloods he came across, to which he did. 

Umbridge is another thing. Harry had felt her magic spike violently when Dumbledore accused the Ministry of sending the dementors and it had given her away as the assailant. If anything her robes looked absolutely ghastly, the pink clashing terribly against the navy Wizengamot robes. Meanwhile the pureblood lords he’d been talking to looked impeccable, their robes clearly custom and they obviously knew what they were doing. Umbridge looked like she had a pink collar on with that fat pearl hanging off like a bell would on a cat. 

“Sirius, please tell Harry he shouldn’t be talking to Death Eaters!” Arthur exclaims as they reach the kitchen. 

Sirius’ head snaps up and he stares deeply at Harry who rolls his eyes, moving past Arthur to start lunch. Sirius exchanges a glance with Remus behind Harry’s back as they see Arthur’s red face. 

“What did you talk about?” He asks carefully and Harry turns around, surprised at the lack of anger being sent his way. Arthur is surprised too and freezes, staring at them interacting. 

“They were only asking about the trial and who I was waiting for.” Harry shrugs, turning to pull the fridge open again, Kreacher popping in obediently, responding to Harry as he’s been doing since the first time Harry called him. 

Harry gently takes Hestia out of his pocket, letting her fly up and land in his hair with a small snort. 

“Oh... who were they?” He asks, sitting back. Sirius can’t really see the harm in asking about either of those things. 

“Lucius Malfoy, Evan Rosier, then there was a Nott, Theodore’s father and a Lestrange who I’m assuming is the escapees father.” 

“You know who Evan Rosier is?” Remus asks, not having expected Harry to know his name. 

“He introduced himself to me. Do you know who the other two were?” He asks softly. 

“Quinton Nott and Corvus Lestrange.” Sirius supplies. “You’re friends with Nott’s boy?” 

“No, we share classes. I don’t understand why people keep coming to that conclusion.” Harry sniffs lightly. “I wouldn’t mind being friends with him though. He seems shy but fairly nice.” Harry adds. 

“He’s a polite boy, I reckon you’d be good friends.” Remus nods, remembering the boy from his time teaching. 

“It’s just too bad he’s always around Malfoy.” Harry shrugs and Sirius laughs slightly himself. 

“Why aren’t you telling him off? He was speaking to Death Eaters!” Arthur demands to know and Sirius sighs, not in the mood to indulge any more Weasley’s today. 

“I wasn’t doing anything other than speaking! You can’t even prove to me they’re Death Eaters! You told me off well enough the whole ride back.” Harry speaks sharply, glaring at the man. 

“Obviously not well enough—“ Arthur starts with a scowl. 

“That’s not your responsibility!” Harry snarls unhappily, his magic spiking slightly around him. “You have no say who I talk to and who I don’t. I don’t care about your petty family feud with the Malfoy’s! You could’ve exposed us on the tube at any time when that man stepped in to stop you shouting at me.” Harry slams the knife in his hand down, his movements becoming sharp. 

“You were shouting at him?” Remus asks lowly. 

“Oh yes! The whole train could hear him! ‘Harry they’re dangerous men! I cant believe you’d go against Dumbledore’s orders like this, it’s humiliating!’ The muggles thought he was keeping me hostage for gods sake!”Harry rants angrily. 

Bill and Charlie walk in at that moment, having stayed the night before. They stop in the doorway as they hear the commotion. 

“Arthur...” Sirius sighs. 

“Well he shouldn’t of been anywhere near the Death Eaters!” He retaliates, his face growing purple. 

“They approached me! What should I of done? Left? Then you wouldn’t of been able to find me!” Harry argues back, not liking how they’re trying to order him about indirectly. 

“You shouldn’t of said anything!” Arthur yells, approaching Harry who flinches back, away from the man who resembles his Uncle inexplicably well right now. 

“Dad! Stop it!” Charlie snaps, pulling his father away from Harry who’s grown pale and shaky. 

Harry slowly turns away, keeping his head lowered as he continues to make lunch. His hands shakier than they were when he first entered the room. 

He quickly finishes making lunch and puts it on the table while the silence remains. Then, turning he swiftly leaves the room, ignoring all the protests and sprints up the stairs, passing some of the other occupants in blurs before locking himself in the library. 

“Harry, please let us in!” Bill says, knocking lightly on the door. 

Kreacher pops up, gently pushing the man back from the door. “Young Master Harry be saying he wants to be alone.” Kreacher scolds sternly. 

“Will you tell him he can come talk to us if he wants?” Bill asks weakly and Kreacher nods, popping away. Bill presses his ear to the door and sighs, either the room had a silencing charm up or Harry had placed one. 

“I don’t understand why Dad’s acting like this...” Charlie mumbles to him and Bill nods in agreement. 

“I don’t see how we’ve missed his terrible behaviour this whole time.” Bill murmurs, following Charlie back down stairs. 

“He’s back in the library then?” Remus asks with a small sigh as they nod in confirmation. 

“Well done, Arthur! You’ve forced the boy to lock himself away again!” Sirius fumes, storming out of the room, Remus not far behind but not as angrily. 

“No doubt, the boy was cleared of all charges?” Tom asks lazily, watching Nagini flick around the room catching mice. 

The four men that attended the Disciplinary Hearing exchange glances in the silence, forcing Tom to look their way expectantly. 

“I feel as though it’s best you watch my memory, My Lord.” Lucius says solemnly and Severus sits up sharply in alert. 

“Very well... Come hither, Lucius.” Tom gestures for the blond to come forward, waving his hand in welcome. 

Gently, he pushes Lucius onto his knees, knowing how uncomfortable it can get to stay standing up with a legilimens in your head and casts a cushion charm for the man. His followers are his responsibility to look after and Lucius is letting him use his own home in the end of it all with no complaints, he owes the man a lot not that he’d admit so. 

The room is silent at Tom goes through Lucius’ mind, watching the two memories intrigued. The first one in the courtroom isn’t anywhere near as interesting as the second memory of his four followers conversation with the boy and his interaction with the Weasley’s. 

Tom slowly leaves Lucius’ mind, pushing his magic forward to soothe the mans barriers as the blond slumps slightly, gently panting. Lucius stands and returns to his seat next to his Lord. 

“I see what you mean now, Lucius.” Tom mutters darkly. “Evan, what did you and the boy talk of, I could not hear you over that insolent blood traitors yelling.” Tom asks and Evan leans back, furrowing his eyebrows. 

“He just introduced himself to me. He caught me off guard by leaning into my touch however, that I was not expecting. He hasn’t heard my name before, that I’m sure. He didn’t recognise me in the slightest.” Evan confides confidently, his brows furrowed in thought. 

“The Order like to withhold information from Potter. Something about keeping his innocence in tact.” Severus drawls agitatedly. 

Lucius catches Severus’ eyes and drops his shields for the man to see the memories, resurfacing with a evident look of surprise. Evident for Severus being his eyes have clearly widened slightly. 

“He’s not very fond of those Weasley’s is he? I could see the disgust in his eyes.” Corvus pipes up as Lucius places the memories in the Pensieve, letting the other Death Eaters all view the memories for context. 

“He doesn’t look the same as that picture from the Prophet.” Vienna adds, pulling aforementioned prophet out. She’d been catching up on all she’d missed over the years. 

Tom picks the paper up gently, looking at the picture displayed from the beginning of the Triwizard Tournament. 

“He’s very camera shy by the looks of his face.” Lixian observes when he eventually gets his hands on the paper. 

“That’s surprising for a Gryffindor.” Montague teases the man only to receive a glare in response. 

“I’m sure Potter is far from camera shy, he practically revels in the attention.” Severus sneers at the picture of the boy, Potter’s hair sticking up all over the place. If this were one of his Slytherins he’d give them no mercy for disgracing the face of Hogwarts with scruffiness. 

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that. We all know how prejudiced your views on Gryffindor’s can be.” Walden Macnair cuts into the conversation, narrowing his eyes at the awkward smile on Potter’s face and the tightness in his shoulders. 

“He seems more observant than you credit him for. He guessed me to be a Nott from merely sharing classes with my son. To be able to figure me as his father says he spends more time watching the Slytherins than you realise.” Quinton huffs mockingly. He’d taken quite a liking to the Potter boy in the brief moments they’d talked. 

“He seemed very fixated on Corvus after finding out he was a Lestrange.” Lucius looks over to Corvus who’s been in deep thought for the best few minutes, stroking his beard unconsciously. 

“No doubt the simple reason for that is these lot breaking out a few days ago.” Evan says, nodding in the Lestrange’s direction. 

“What has ensnared your mind so profoundly my friend?” Tom inquires languidly, staring at his friend intently. 

“The boy was raised by muggles.” Corvus mumbles with a frown. 

“Yes, we were even spared his address by the fool of a minister. Surely they should know more reason than to spread the Chosen One’s address through the Wizengamot so dismissively.” Tom turns Lucius’ words over in his mind thoughtfully. They did indeed now know the boys address and he had Potter’s blood running in his veins. He could bypass the blood wards easily, Albus’ defences be damned. 

“He didn’t look too happy about it though.” Evan tells them passively as he leans back in his chair, flipping through the pages in one of his Great-aunt’s grimoires. 

“Why was I not informed of his ability to speak Parseltongue?” Tom asks suddenly, the short exchange between the boy and his dragon dragged to the surface of his mind. 

“I had merely thought you were already informed, My Lord. It was common knowledge after he killed the basilisk in the chamber of secrets during his second year.” Severus humbly provides. 

“He... killed the basilisk? I thought that was merely drivel. Draco has sent me letters about his skill but I’d thought it a fluke of one of Potter’s tricks.” Lucius murmurs frustratedly. He needs to start following up on some of Draco’s tales in case they do reveal true. 

“Interesting.” Tom finds he has research on the Potter family tree to do as of now. Is it possible the boy has revived a dormant skill in his bloodline or is something else at play?

“I ain’t being delusional am I? The boys facial features truly have changed in between this photo and that memory.” Vienna questions, squinting at the picture on the newspaper. 

“His cheekbones are more defined and his hair is less of a bird nest, more wavy than messy. His eyes seem a brighter shade but I’m unable to tell with such a dull picture. He also doesn’t have glasses either so that’s one major factor.” Bellatrix accounts, leaning over Vienna’s shoulder as she lists the differences like she’s playing a game of spot the difference. 

“Has the boy been blood adopted by Black?” Julius asks wonderingly. 

“Not as far as I’m aware. The blood adoption would also change his looks more obviously than the ones listed.” Severus tells them with a sharp shake of his head. Blood adoption cancels out one side of the genetics to replace it with new genetics, something Severus had concluded after in depth research. Potter still has both Potter and Evans features so he cannot of been blood adopted by Black which would’ve replaced the Evans blood. 

“A glamour perhaps?” Corvus suggests lightly with a small shrug. 

“I’m sure Severus will have plenty of time to figure out the reasons for his change in appearance during the school year?” Tom phrases his order as a question. It is a question in a sense as it’s not their top priority for the moment. 

“Of course, My Lord.” Severus accepts. 

“Throughout the trial, Potter had been tugging on our connection in seek of comfort. Wether it was unconscious or not I am unaware.” Tom folds his hands under his chin, watching Severus stiffen slightly. He knows all about the vow the man has made to protect the boy and is unconcerned with his reaction in the slightest. 

“I reckon its unconsciously. You said it yourself Potter shut down the bond and he’d been pretty occupied with that dragon throughout the trial.” Evan offers. 

“I shall see what I can find out My Lord.” Severus decides, wondering why on Earth the boy would go to the link for comfort. Tom nods, pleased with the outcome. 

“He stood up for them, even after they were claimed Death Eaters. He didn’t even try to attack or pull his wand out.” Lixian states, staring at Tom to see what he decides to do with that information. 

“I agree, we cannot go about the boy in the same way we have before.” Tom thinks aloud. 

“I say we give him immunity from our side?” Vienna proposes, startling the others around her. They certainly hadn’t been thinking that this would be the direction the statement would lead to. Vienna also has a very strong hatred for harming any children as a power play tactic, Potter obviously not excluded. 

“A wise suggestion, My Dear.” Tom agrees. “Very well, Potter now has immunity until I say otherwise. You will not seek him out nor harm him in any way but you may converse with him should you cross paths.” Tom declares as the room seems to buzz with excitement at the announcement. Severus relaxes immediately and Tom nods when their eyes meet, the Order should be informed of Potter’s untouchable status if only to lead them off track. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter sees Death Eaters
> 
> Harry Potter to Mr Weasley: you have no proof
> 
> Mr Weasley: I SEE WITH MY EYES
> 
> Harry Potter: so do I????
> 
> The Death Eaters: AHAHAHS CLOWNS
> 
> Voldemort: *is confused and partially scared*
> 
> Vienna Hawthorne: *is the new best character*


	8. Immunity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My caps are officially on!!!!! Are y’all proud of me 🥺
> 
> Not spell checked in the slightest bc I wanted to post this for y’all as soon as possible and way shorter than last chapter because 9K was too much for me to live up to (check AWISC most recent chapter for more information as to why).
> 
> I wanted to say that when I was writing YSHTOH initially, I had no idea about grammar inside of speech marks, hence the now change in my writing style. Prior to that I didn’t even use fullstops, that was absolutely disgraceful to look back at lmao
> 
> Dear ‘sweetangieb’, I’m terribly sorry for accidentally giving you spoilers!! I appreciate you so much and hope you enjoy reading about what truly happens without me confusing you!!

Standing tall, he stares down at the boys sleeping face, his expression lacking the paranoia and tenseness he’d gained from a young age. Oh, the mistakes he’s made during his existence. He wonders if when the boy wakes, the boy will come to hate the him.

He’s left the boy on his own for too long, if he’d had more say in that choice he never would’ve left his side. Alas he had hoped that someone else would come to see the faults placed upon the boy without his interference. 

He clenches his hand around the small blue globe in his hand, no bigger than a marble but it had damaged the boy his whole lifetime. 

His companion glides up beside him, nudging against him as the first hints of dawn start to appear. Sighing, he brushes the boys hair from his face, leaning down to press his cold lips to the boy’s forehead. 

“ I’ll stay this time, Harry. ” He steps back, his feet soundless and weightless on the usually creaky floorboards. His companion follows silently, taking the small globe out of his hand and keeping it in their own for safe keeping until the time is right. 

“Potter,” Harry turns, eyes dimming slightly when they land on Snape’s figure in the kitchen doorway. “A word if you please.” Harry nods uncertainly, handing the spoon to Remus so he can continue cooking. He’s sure he hasn’t done anything that can get him into trouble. 

“Am I in trouble, sir?” Harry asks as they enter the sitting room, shifting uncomfortably as he settles into the chair pointed out to him by Snape. 

“Do you have a reason to be in trouble, Potter?” Snape asks, his face still betraying no emotion. 

“I don’t think so...” Harry mumbles, turning to stare anywhere but at Snape. 

“The Dark Lord has granted you immunity.” Snape divulges and Harry startles slightly, his back going uncomfortably straight. 

“Why?” Harry asks, eyeing Snape’s hands as he clenches them slightly. 

“He believes you’re of no threat in your current state of illness and has ordered we not harm you.” We being the Death Eaters. 

“Does this have something to do with the ministry trial?” He asks sharply, remembering his run in with the four... Death Eaters. He supposes that’s what they truly are, the black magic pulsing on their arms told him that much. 

“I’ll be frank with you, Potter. Vienna Hawthorne has an extremely soft spot for children and you didn’t show any signs of starting a fight with the four men, you even defended them, that was enough for the Dark Lord to grant you immunity. For now at least.” Snape tells him, crossing his arms in a way that shows how uncomfortable he is giving out this much inside information to a fifteen year old. 

Harry eyes him momentarily, “the rest of it?” He inquires, narrowing his eyes. 

“Intel given to us straight from the Dark Lord claims that you were tugging on your bond for comfort.” Snape watches Harry pale slightly. 

Harry does, in fact, remember pulling on a dark thread of magic in his mind to seek comfort during the trial. Now he can see it’s the link between himself and the Dark Lord. 

“I see. I hadn’t realised it was him.” Harry grimaces slightly, he hadn’t wanted to get in Voldemort’s line of sight but he supposes it works out in his favour this time. 

“Potter... Harry,” Snape shifts uncomfortably and Harry slumps down in his chair slightly to watch Snape shuffle. “Do you— what is the reason for your episodes in which you cough up blood?” Snape eventually asks, stumbling over his words (and even that he does elegantly).

“I’m sure Siri has already told you all but i simply forgot to drink after the dementor event so my throat tore due to dehydration.” He lies fluently as Snape eyes him carefully, watching for tells. He shrugs nonchalantly. 

“You lied to them.”

“It’s simply easier to explain that the truth. Besides, they bought it.” Harry had no doubts Snape would catch his lie so easily, and he did. 

“You know, if someone forced you to do something that injured your throat, you have nothing to be ashamed of. I will not ridicule you if that is the case.” Harry stares at Snape wide eyed. Snape grimaces slightly, obviously taking his silence as an affirmation. 

“No,” Harry says slowly. “I’m completely unaware as to how you’veeven come to that conclusion.” 

“It was suggested to be the reason by one of the Death Eaters.” Snape seems embarrassed at the quick falsely judged conclusion. 

“If I tell you, you will not tell Dumbledore.” Harry declares, looking around to see Phineas listening in. He rolls his eyes at the man, the man wouldn’t give him away to Dumbledore, especially not after everything he’s done for them this week. 

Snape nods, watching Harry with a curious glint in his eyes. 

“My body is purging a curse of some sort.” He divulges. 

Snape pauses, “a... curse?” So the boy truly does know what has happened. 

“The dementors pulled something out of me but it wasn’t my soul. Me coughing up blood is my bodies way of getting rid of the poison,” Harry explains, struggling with the wording.

“You were... poisoned?” Snape inquires with alarm. 

“Ah, no. It’s hard to explain because you can’t feel it and it looks bad to other people but I know it’s making me weak before I get stronger. Does that make sense?” 

“I suppose it does. Why have you not told the others about such a thing?” Snape wonders, leaning forward to fold his hands over his knees and stare expectantly at Harry. 

“Well, you see, the purge sort of reacts to light magic and that’s why when Hermione hexed me I started to cough up blood, because she’s a light witch and even though it was a stinging hex, Dumbledore had also shot a spell at me at the same time. The first few days I was extremely sensitive to light magic and that’s why it hurt my eyes to look at the walls with Mrs Weasley’s cleaning spells. It’s calming down a bit now but I’m sure the Dark Lord has already told that something else is in my mind, I know he was there, I saw his eyes,” Harry expands, fiddling with his hands nervously. 

“Do you deem this other presence harmful?” Snape has been told more than Harry thought he had by Voldemort. 

“No... it’s more protective and that’s why I haven’t done anything about it, no matter how unnervingly overbearing it can get,” Harry says, grimacing slightly. 

“Overbearing?” 

“I’m still getting used to people actually give a — pardon my french — shit about me.” Harry’s not sure how best to explain this without getting on to the topic of the Dursley’s which he does not want to happen. 

“Are you going to tell the others what happened with the dementor attack?” Snape raises a curious eyebrow. 

“Absolutely not,” Harry answers, a too-wide smile. “Are you going to tell them about my immunity?” 

“I’m supposed to, would you prefer I not?” Snape leans back now, satisfied with the answers he’s got. Harry knows the feeling of finally knowing what’s going on, it’s almost never a bad feeling. 

“Oh god no, I really need to go grocery shopping, I’m getting tired of Mrs Weasley’s infected pumpkin juice and the juicer is old, hard to use,” Harry chuckles easily. 

“Infected?” Snape smirks slightly. 

“She uses magic to cook and it makes the food taste bad, that’s why I’ve been cooking myself,” Harry explains. 

“Do you like cooking then or is it the only option?” 

“I... well I sort of like cooking I guess but I’ve done it my whole life and I didn’t really get a choice before but it’s alright now because I’m allowed to cook when and what I want.”

“You were forced to cook before? At your relatives?” Snape’s eyes narrow and Harry cant tell if it’s because the man thinks he’s lying or not. 

“Well, uh, Aunt Petunia just isn’t a good cook,” Harry flounders nervously, he doesn’t want people to go and visit the Dursley’s especially not in the state they’re in now if his dreams are any indicators. “Why did you tell me about the immunity first?” Harry changes the subject and he knows he’s not subtle because Snape seems to deflate from his previous state of glee at the prospect of having something against Harry. 

“The Order are keen on keeping information from you, they most likely wouldn’t tell you about the immunity so as to keep you here,” Snape admits. Harry sees him slide his wand back up his sleeve and wonders if he’s had it out the whole time (he probably has, knowing Snape). 

“I don’t understand why they keep things from me, I’ll find out sooner or later. Sooner is better because it leaves me prepared.” Harry huffs, standing to walk towards the bookshelf, sure he’s not in any trouble now. 

“They want to keep your innocence in tact or something along those lines,” Snape acknowledges the underlying question seamlessly. 

“I lost my innocence when I killed Professor Quirrell,” Harry says, snorting under his breath. “Will you tell me about the Azkaban escapees considering the Order haven’t told me anything?” It’s worth a try and if anyone’s knows them it’s Snape, their resident undercover Death Eater. 

“I don’t see why not,” Snape agrees. 

From there Snape goes on to tell Harry everything he knows about the escapees and probably more than the order already knows. 

The Lestranges who took part in the estranging of the Longbottom parents, the latter of who Harry remembers being told about from Neville after their first lesson with Not-Moody. All three are skilled in DADA and Bellatrix is supposedly the only marked female follower but Vienna Hawthorne, he’s informed, has the mark it’s just on her ankle instead. The Lestrange brothers are redheads, not Weasley-red but almost wine-red, covered in scars and he can remember what Bellatrix looks like from the Black family tree: black hair that’s frizzy like Hermiones but with more shape, petite figure and prominent Black features. 

Vienna Hawthorne is a muggleborn Hufflepuff which surprises Harry less than it should, evident in the way Snape almost pouts at the lack of shock. She’s a  pretty (it’s weird to hear Snape call someone pretty) blonde with green eyes and sharp features. Snape says she murdered her muggle family and neighbours because the abuse became too much the Christmas before graduating Hogwarts meaning she never finished her education. Harry is glad he can keep himself impassive at the familiar story. She has a talent in herbology apparently and a flair for deadly plants, Snape says she’s made a pet of baby devil snare that she keeps in her purse for easy access. Apparently she can either be your greatest friend or your worst enemy ( expect if you’re Bellatrix because she’s both to her , or so Snape says). 

At this point Remus enters the room. Snape momentarily stops talking but the werewolf just sets down a tray of tea and pulls another armchair over to join the conversation. 

Antonin Dolohov has been a Death Eater since the Knights of Walpurgis times (Harry is quickly explained to that this was the name Voldemort originally had his Death Eaters going by at Hogwarts) as well as Corvus Lestrange (the father of the Lestrange brothers and father-in-law of Bellatrix). Dolohov was an unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries and a particular well-renowned duellist before his Dark Mark was revealed, an asset to the Dark Lord. A portly man with black hair, brown eyes and a scruffy beard he refuses to shave off even days after being free from Azkaban. 

He’s then warned never to mention Dolohov around Mrs Weasley because he’s responsible for the murder of her two brothers, Gideon and Fabian Prewett. 

Felix Travers, murderer of the well-known McKinnon family, named by Karkaroff as a scapegoat to get himself out of Azkaban. Harry remembers that memory of Karkaroff, knowing he also revealed Barty Crouch Junior to his own father. Travers seems to be more of a brute-force type of guy as well if the stories about his street fights Snape is telling him are anything to go buy. He’s told that time hasn’t treated Travers well and his youthful looks are no longer. 

Then they went on to Casper Macmillan, the Death Eater ghost or Ravenclaw as he’s affectionately been named. A shaggy haired, gothic styled man who looks years younger than he is. The definition of silent but deadly, in Snapes words. Apparently he had a knack for divination which Harry can only conclude means he has the sight, anyone without the sight is absolutely trash at the subject based around third eyes. Macmillan has both his parents still alive but they’ve disowned him for his life choices. When paired with Travers it sounds like they could take out a small village with no one the wiser. 

Penultimately he’s told about Montague ‘Monty’ Mulciber, a second generation Death Eater who had a love of twisted pranks aimed at Gryffindors. There was a moment of silence in which Snape glared heavily at Remus and Harry feels like he’s missing some vital information. Remus looks surprised when Snape informs them that Mulciber was actually the one to kill his father and not an Auror in order to take his place in the inner circle, which led to his mother committing suicide and leaving him the last of his line. Partners with Julius Avery who Harry’s informed is an undercover Death Eater in the ministry much like Dolohov was. 

The last escapee he’s told about is Lixian Fawcett: brown hair, brown eyes but a skilled philanderer and seducer. Fawcett became a defense lawyer in the ministry to help Death Eaters win their trails after spending seven years as a Gryffindor at Hogwarts. A few years older than Bill but still quite young (not that Bill is old of course). No living family left alive besides a distant cousin he has no contact with. 

“What was Barty Crouch Junior like when he was still around?” Harry inquires, sipping on his long cold cup of tea. He always wondered how people with such potential become the ‘worst of the worst’ (even though that’s how they describe the whole of Slytherin house and he’s already heard of over four Death Eaters not in that house). 

“You want to know more about a man who tried to kill you?” Snape asks, an amused glint in his eye. 

“What can I say? Know thy enemy,” Harry regales, smirking into his cup as Remus snorts over his book like he’s not listening in. 

It seems the man had finished making lunch a while ago and threw up a stasis charm to keep the food warm. 

“Crouch was a Ravenclaw, partially skilled in offensive magic. You already know what he looks like and what has become of his family, I’m sure. Other than that you probably know more than me due to him teaching you for a whole year, i only know the bare minimum about the man I’m sorry.” 

“He was a good teacher,” Harry muses, stifling a snort when Remus gasps offendedly. 

“Am I being compared to a Death Eater?” He asks with narrowed eyes. 

“Take it as you will,” Harry hums, setting his now-empty cup back down onto the table. 

“Brat,” Remus huffs affectionately. 

“Where’s Siri?” Harry asks, ignoring the tense of Snape’s shoulders. 

“Tending to Buckbeak,” Remus replies. 

“You have that creature in the house?” Snape blisters in astonishment. 

“Buckbeak has a place forever in my heart,” Harry sighs mock-solemnly. 

“And you have a dragon, therefore your opinion is null,” Remus points out, his finger trained on Hestia settled in Harry’s hair. 

“She has a name,” Harry sniffs haughtily. 

“Until there is another dragon around, I refuse to call her as such,” Remus declares. Harry tilts his head in consideration. “NO! You are not getting another one of those pests!” Remus hisses, launching his pillow at Harry who laughs, jumping over the back of his armchair to get away from said pillow. 

He coughs at the sudden movement, groaning and wiping away the blood on his trousers. 

“Harry, you alright?” Remus asks worriedly when the coughing fit ends, kneeling on the armchair Harry was just in to look over at him on the floor. 

Harry groans unintelligibly as he flops back against the floor, wincing at the impact against his back. Hestia huffs in annoyance as she settles on his nose, her nest in his hair disturbed. 

“Kreacher bes getting worthy master water!” Kreacher announces as he pops into existence besides Harry’s head. 

“Ta’ Kreacher,” Harry mumbles, pushing himself up and gingerly gripping the glass Kreacher slips into his hand. He chugs it all in one go, sighing in relief. Kreacher takes the empty glass and pops out again to wherever he goes. “You funky little elf, you.” Harry mutters affectionately to the empty air. 

Remus squints at him with a disbelieving gape. “Are you high?” He asks incredulously. 

“No,” Harry answers, smiling placidly. 

“Okay, up, up, the floors is dirty and I don’t want you getting dust in your lungs,” Remus commands, stepping around the armchair to tug a whining Harry up off the floor. 

“But I was comfortable,” he bemoans, falling limply into Remus’s chest. 

“Harry I will let you fall,” Remus warns even as he hugs Harry to his chest. 

“No you won’t,” Harry replies, a shit-eating grin on his face that Remus can probably feel through his shirt. 

“You’re right, I won’t, but I will do this,” Remus exclaims, hoisting Harry up and over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes. 

“Remus! Let me down!” Harry squeals in surprise. 

“Join us for lunch Severus?” Remus offers to Snape who declines but still follows them through to the kitchen so he can use the floo. 

“What’s Snivellus doing here?” Sirius snarls. 

“Sirius! Don’t be rude! And he was telling me about my immunity from Moldyshorts!” Harry grumbles, tapping his fists against Remus’s back half-heartedly to be let down. 

Harry flails with a shout as he’s unceremoniously dropped onto the table. He pouts at Remus and pushes himself up, dusting off his clothes. 

“I was just leaving Black, I’ll be seeing you later for the order meeting anyways. Potter don’t tell them anything, they’ll find out later,” Snape orders. 

“Yessir,” Harry mumbles nonchalantly, moving over to take off the stasis charm. He’s vaguely annoyed there’s magic on the food but it’s not a lot so he’ll have to get over it for now. 

“Why did Professor Snape want to talk to Harry?” Ginny asks as she pushes the door open to their room. She smiles as they freeze in the middle of wrapping up the extendable ears they’d used to spy on the duo turned trio in the sitting room. 

“We don’t know,” Fred lies as George looks away, whistling ‘inconspicuously’.

“I’ll just go ask Harry myself then,” Ginny huffs, turning on her heel to march back out of the room. 

“ You-know-who gave Harry immunity from their side ,” George blurts. “It’s probably best you don’t needle Harry about this.”

“He what?” Ginny gapes at the pair, hoping that this is another one of their illustrious pranks they like to play. 

The twins sit there, avoiding her eyes and facing away from each other, that’s how she knows they’re telling the truth; the twins are never embarrassed of a prank played by themselves. 

“You’re not lying...” she mumbles, walking over to sit down heavily between then, leaning on them with a sigh. 

“We don’t know why and we’re sure Harry will never tell us,” Fred says, glaring halfheartedly at George who shrugs with a cheeky grin. 

“He’s different isn’t he? Harry, I mean,” Ginny ponders, letting her words hang in the air. 

“It’s like he has a completely different personality,” the twins agree. 

“Ron isn’t going to wake up in time to keep Harry as his friend,” Ginny points out, leaning to lie back against the width of the bed, stretching her arms out above her head. 

“Ron hasn’t used his brain the entire summer, Snape’ll kill him when he doesn’t give in his homework,” Fred snickers. 

“Hermione‘s too busy trying to suck up to Harry again to remind him to do any homework and Harry has only talked to her once.”

“More times that he’s talked to Ron,” Ginny mumbles. 

“So, you’re okay with Harry then and not mad he’s been ignoring you?” Fred asks, flopping down besides her to give her a knowing smirk. 

“Well, he was never really my friend to begin with. What do I have to talk to him about besides Tom?” Ginny grumbles bitterly. 

“Chin up, Gin,” George coos, “he’ll talk to you before he talks to them.”

“LUNCH!” 

Fred grins, swooping Ginny up and sprinting down the stairs. 

“FRED GIDEON WEASLEY, YOU PUT ME DOWN!” Ginny screeches into his ear as he slides down the banisters, Ginny clinging on to the back of his shirt. 

“NEVER!” Fred cheers, slamming the kitchen door open to drop Ginny into the nearest chair, panting heavily. “You’re heavy,” he whines. 

“Fred, you never comment on a Ladies weight,” Harry chastises, walking up behind them to slap Fred on the back of the head with a wooden spoon. 

“Sirius comments on our mother’s all the time,” George says, grinning when Sirius blusters indignantly. 

“I said a  Lady ,” Harry corrects, pointing the spoon at George’s chest. 

“Well, I never,” Mrs Weasley sniffs indignantly. 

“Also, your extendable ears weren’t subtle at all,” Harry comments casually to the twins who choke on air in surprise. “Did you learn anything interesting?” He asks mockingly. 

“We sure did, Harrikins,” they preens together. 

“Who’s conversation have you been listening into now?” Mrs Weasley demands, standing at the head of the table with her hands on her hips. 

“Harry and Snape’s,” the chime together, not missing a beat. 

“Professor Snape,” Hermione mumbles over the boom she’s settled with at the table. 

“Harry’s been talking to more Death Eaters then?” Mrs Weasley comments snidely. Sirius inhales sharply, turning to glare at her. 

“He’d be a shitty Order member if he were a real Death Eater,” Harry dismisses. 

“And what about those Death Eaters after the trial?” She smiles smugly likes he’s caught Harry out. 

“I didn’t know Percy is a Death Eater,” Harry hums and the table falls deadly quiet. No one had dared bring him up since he’d stopped contacting them. 

“He’s not!” Mrs Weasley bellows. 

“Well I talked to Percy after the trial, I talked to a lot of people after the trial, I suppose any of them could’ve been Death Eaters,” Harry says, his face remaining straight but Ginny can see he’s trying terribly not to laugh. 

“Percy’s just going through a bit of a rough spot right now,” she reassures, mostly to herself. 

“And yet again, who’s fault is that?” Harry mumbles and she gasps. 

“How dare you! He cut us off!” She shrieks. 

“He’s looking alright by the way, it’s nice that you asked. He said hello and apologised to me before telling me he hopes I get better, he said he’d heard about my illness somehow,” Harry rambles. 

“She didn’t ask about what happened, Harry,” Ginny offers weakly. 

Harry smiles at her, ruffling her hair and ignoring her blushing if he understands it. “I know she didn’t, I thought she’d like to know if she claims to care so much about him.” 

Mrs Weasley sobs once and storms out of the kitchen in a huff. 

“That was a bit harsh, Harry,” Remus mumbles. 

“Truth hurts, it’s her own fault, she needed to hear it,” Harry huffs. 

Hestia drops down on his head then, breathing out a string of fiery curses in agreement. Harry snorts and mumbles at her to shut up. 

There’s another Order meeting that night, called by Dumbledore who surprisingly shows up in person for once. 

“I request Potter’s presence,” Snape declares suddenly. 

“Now, now, no need to worry poor Harry any more,” Dumbledore says calmly. 

“Considering it’s about his own life, I insist he’s allowed it.”

“Just let him in Albus, before you start another argument,” Remus adds, clutching Sirius’ hand tightly under the table to stop the man from jumping up at the mention of Harry’s life. 

“Very well, on your heads be it,” Dumbledore concedes solemnly. 

“Harry!” Mrs Weasley calls up the stairs. 

“He won’t hear you, he’s in the library,” Sirius pipes up. 

Suddenly a loud pop fills the room and a very disoriented Kreacher stands bemused watching a very disheveled Harry stumble. 

“I hate you, Kreacher,” Harry says. 

“I know, Worthy Master Harry,” Kreacher acknowledges, popping out again with a nasty grin thrown Harry’s way. 

“Funky little elf,” Harry mumbles, snorting to himself. 

“Harry, have you been making Kreacher listen in on these secretive meetings for you?” Mrs Weasley demands, hands on her hips like she knows no other stance. 

“Yes, I’m very interested in hearing about a bunch of old men and Tonks grumble over war with each other,” Harry says, nodding solemnly with a blank look on his face. 

“Aye!” Tonks cheers, her hair flashing yellow as she laughs. 

“Sit,” Remus chides but his lips are upturned. 

“Oh, woe is me,” Harry sighs, falling into Remus’ lap. 

“Not on me you cretin!” Remus squawks. 

“You should know I don’t do well without direct instructions by now!” Harry pouts. 

Remus sighs, picking Harry up and depositing him into the new empty seat between him and Sirius. 

“Are you done?” Snape asks, glaring at the two. Harry nods with a smile too-wide and Snape sighs. 

“Severus, surely whatever you need to tell us couldn’t of warranted a meeting,” Dumbledore muses. 

“Very well,” Snape says, “the Dark Lord has given Potter immunity.” 

The table falls silent and even Dumbledore looks shocked. 

“Severus, surely you know this is just a trap, that Harry cannot possibly ever be safe without a guard,” Dumbledore soothes, brows furrowed in consternation. 

“Even with your lousy guards I still got attacked by dementors,” Harry cuts in, smiling sharply and narrowing his eyes down the table at Dumbledore who’s standing at the head yet again like he owns the place. 

“That was a mistake on my behalf,” he admits solemnly. 

“Then who’s to say you won’t make those mistakes again? After all, you never cared about how safe I was inside number four,” Harry snorts, inspecting at his nails disinterestedly. “Why did I even have to stay there before Voldemort was resurrected, what was the point of leaving me there for fourteen years when he wasn’t even around then?” Harry is finally asking the questions that have been plaguing his mind. 

“It was for your safety, my boy,” Dumbledore dismisses. 

“Safety, yeah okay,” Harry huffs, leaning back against his chair, totally uninterested in whatever else is going to happen. 

“You still cannot leave the house, my boy.” Dumbledore orders are worded as if they have a choice. 

“Well it’s too bad you don’t get a say in what I do anymore and I’m not your boy. Goodnight headmaster,” Harry says. He stands up and leaves the room, slamming the door behind him. They listen to his footsteps trailing up the stairs before another door slams and the house is left in silence. 

“I sense that the meeting has concluded. That will be all if no one else has anything to add?” Dumbledore announces after a few minutes of silence, a grave look on his face. No one speaks up. “Very well, goodnight all.”

Narcissa Malfoy is not at all happy to be entertaining any of the recent escapees. Not at all. 

She sighs, placing her fragile teacup down gently onto the saucer, wincing as she watches as her sister drops the cup none too gently, hands trembling still. 

“Darling, I’ve been summoned to the ministry, I’ll be back soon,” Lucius had said. 

Lucius had said that two days ago with one last glance at Lixian Fawcett’s leery grin before hightailing it out of the manor. 

Her poor Draco hasn’t gotten nearly enough sleep with these baboons prancing around the manor. 

She sighs once again when Rodolphus plops down besides her. 

“Narcissa,” he starts. 

“Yes dear,” she acknowledges. 

“I fucked your husband,” he admits. 

It’s not a surprise. Hers and Lucius’ marriage isn’t a loveless one but it’s more of an open marriage. Looking at Rodolphus she doesn’t think she’d find herself getting mad if they were exclusive anyways. 

Instead, she settles with the reply, “and I had intercourse with your wife.” 

He splutters, no doubt at her lack of brashness and her ability to always be put together. Anyone would be jealous of her impeccable manners. 

“She’s your sister,” he points out. 

“I’m well aware sweetheart,” she coos. “I’m also a Black, stick with the status quo please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELCOME A VERY NARCISSA INTERLUDE!!
> 
> A very short order meeting compared to others and I know it looks rushed but there really wasn’t much more to add to it so I hope it’s okay.
> 
> Harry has finally confided in someone about what happened during the night of the dementor attack, who would’ve thought it’d be snape!
> 
> I’m sorry it took me so long to upload but I’m posting this as soon as I finished this chapter due to accidentally spoiling some parts but mixing this chapter with chapter seven in my mind.
> 
> How do you all like Narcissa?? I think she’s pretty cool ;) id totally let her fuck me over a table tbh
> 
> Harry Potter to Kreacher: you funky little elf you
> 
> Rodolphus: i fucked your husband
> 
> Narcissa: uno reverse bitch
> 
> Next time on YSHTOH I’m pretty sure we’re going to be welcoming some old favourites of yours back into the midst and some new characters! I will say that Evan Rosier does, in fact, make an appearance as planned thus far. There’s also some upcoming drama although if it’ll be in the next chapter I’ve yet to conclude.
> 
> Please, please, please comment anything you like or don’t like or are confused about and I’ll gladly explain. Your comments are what motivated me to finish this chapter!! I love talking with you all!!
> 
> ...what’s y’all’s opinions on smut? And amateur smut at best? Just curious 😳


	9. Arbitrium De Mortem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry meets some new characters ;)
> 
> “Italics” is parseltongue :)!
> 
> Ummm I just realised that when I copy and paste shit into here it leaves two spaces instead of one between each paragraph???? Wtf AO3 🤡
> 
> anywhosies,,, fuck you im not fixing it, enjoy my spacious writing :)

Harry opens the window-doors to let some air into the stuffy library, slumping down on an armchair at the very back of the almost dome-shaped displays to look out onto the street from the very small balcony-like ledge the doors open onto.

Smiling slightly, he opens his sketchbook that’s been horribly neglected this summer, reasons ranging from the Dursley’s using him as slave labour to the dementor attack and the brief bout of what Harry thinks might’ve been a major depressive episode to coughing up blood and worrying about the trial. 

He flips through the few pages he’s filled, nostalgia filling him at the sight of the Hungarian Horntail sketched in pencil. Hestia flies down from her claimed nest in his hair, sitting on the page and staring at the dragon in unconcealed awe. 

“ _ Isss thisss me? _ ” She asks, peering closely at the messy lines. 

“ _ Yesss, but big you _ _,_ ” Harry explains, a fond smile on his lips.He picks her up by the scruff of the neck, ignoring her whining and places her on the coffee table he dragged over next to his sitting area, placing her on the cold wood. 

He didn’t have much time to draw throughout fourth year either, he supposes. The pages are scarce with quick sketchy lines that are mostly compromised of dragons, merpeople and Cedric. 

Over the first few years of Hogwarts he filled quite a few sketchbooks, two or three. He remembers drawing as a little kid on spare pieces of work, Uncle Vernon’s scrapped paperwork and on the back of schoolwork in primary —it’s where his tendency to doodle came from. The first time he had a proper sketchbook was after Hagrid took him to Diagon Alley at the very beginning of his introduction to the magical world, he’d snuck it into his basket with the rest of his books. The first drawing he ever did in that book was of Hedwig, sitting primly on her perch in his new and only ever room (at the time).

He picks up his pencil and finds a clean page. His hand trails around the page, pulling up the memory of the dementors to put them onto his page. He’s drawn dementors before of course, he couldn’t think about much else the entirety of his third year. 

When he’s finished his sketch he looks up from his sketchbook for probably the first time in half an hour to find a book sitting on the coffee table which he’s sure wasn’t there earlier. 

Frowning, he trades out his sketchbook for the thin black book, running his hand over the golden stitching on the spine. The phrase  _ Arbitrium De Mortem _ is written across the cover of the book in matching golden calligraphy. Brows furrowed, Harry goes through what he knows of latin and puts together that the words meaning something along the lines of controller of Death. 

He drops the book and abruptly leaves the library. 

“Harry?” Remus asks, watching him in concern and he goes through the motions of making a cup of tea automatically. 

On one hand, he’s just been presented a book that means someone knows what he’s done or what he can do if they don’t know already; on the other hand, that book may contain the answers to the questions he’s been creating in his head. 

“Yes?” Harry replies, belatedly as he sips on his tea, pulling a strained smile on. 

“What’s the matter?” Remus asks, pulling Harry into a hug. 

“I’m just feeling a bit down is all,” Harry replies, because  _ I’m fine _ is not a well-received response anymore, especially with his coughing episodes even though they’re less often now. 

“If you’re sure,” Remus mumbles, resting his chin in Harry’s hair before finally letting go. 

“I’ll see you later, I’m doing some of my homework right now,” Harry lies, he’s made his mind up now about what to do with the book. 

He doesn’t want anyone else getting hurt or worse, dying because he lacks control over his magic —even if the Dursley’s has it coming. 

“Okay, lunch is at one so make sure you’re down to eat, I don’t want you missing any more meals,” Remus warns Harry, as he runs back up to the library, shouting back in agreement. 

Picking up  _Arbitrium De Mortem_ ,  he gingerly places his tea down on the coffee table, curling into the armchair to read the book. 

“ _ Ssspeaker you are nervousss _ _,_ ” Hestia observes, puffing out smoke into his ear. He shakes his head to get rid of the tickling feeling and sighs when she takes up placement on his shoulder. 

“ _ Thisss book might have anssswersss _ _,_ ” Harry replies, opening the book to the very first page. 

“ _ And you are worried they will be bad _ _,_ ” Hestia agrees, leaning into his neck further, spreading warmth up his side to battle against the cool breeze flowing in from the open doors. 

_ For my cara, Amara Gaumont. .. _

_ An introduction to necromancy .  _

Harry pauses momentarily, even he knows what necromancy is: death magic. He scans the room once again, nerves on edge at the prospect of being caught reading about a very,  _very_ illegal subject (he knows it’s illegal, there’s no way it wouldn’t be banned if dark arts are). 

_ Necromancy is the darkest kind of magic, concerned with contacting the dead, especially in order to predict the future. Necromancy has many links to divination and runes.  _

_ Many folks believe necromancy requires a deity to channel the magic through in cases of resurrection but this is not precisely true.  _

_ In cases of resurrection, there has been tools made to ease the process — the philosophers stone, Harry’s mind supplies — over the centuries in which the necromancer can channel their magic into the object instead of relying on any higher ups.  _

_Necromancy used to be known by the name of ‘maleficium’ where the folks believed necromancy was the practice of summoning demons who take the appearance of spirits to cause harm or death to people or property._

_Some folks believed necromancy to be the combination of astral magic derived from Arabic influences and exorcism derived from Christian and Jewish teachings._

_The truth of the matter is, these assumptions are all false._

_Necromancy is derived from the very first magic users on this planet, the wix and the fae._

_It is one of the purest forms of magic hence it’s extreme results and unpredictability._

_Necromancy was used to put creatures out of their misery in cases of unfixable injuries. It was also once a form of healing magic, as when combined with blood magic it could be used to heal wounds and revive dead cells._

_Blood magic could be acknowledged as a branch of necromancy as could healing which are all branches of death magic._

_Over the centuries, necromancy became the crux of revenge plans, wizards became greedy and used the magic to curse and vanquish their enemies in order to gain power._

_Eventually necromancy became a banned magic, any caught using the magic would receive immediate assassination._

Harry’s surprised, it seems necromancy was once the main form of magic in the olden days. 

The healing abilities of necromancers makes sense in his mind, he revived the Dursley’s back to peak health after previously killing them off. They may be rotting now but he cannot be sure of that fact and even if they are, he has no explanation as to why. 

_ Transcripts of a born necromancer .  _

_‘Learning necromancy without having the natural affinity for such magic is extremely difficult and can be detrimental to ones own health. As a born necromancer, I can assure you that we have very different experiences with necromancy than those taught._

_As a born necromancer we are able to wield death magic easily but must learn control in order to use such magic efficiently._

_At the age of seventeen, I killed my neighbours dog in a bout of fright when the vermin gave chase. When I realised what I had done my magic reacted and brought the dog back to life._

_Now, reader, I must warn you that if you are seeking to learn necromancy you must start off simple. My lack of experience and knowledge of death magic eventually led to the dog starting to rot while still running around happily and no matter what the neighbourhood did the dog would not die until I myself finished what I started._

_Intention is key, I did not want the dog alive, hence the dog started decaying away as I had no focus on the creature. I wanted the dog to die so I had to make sure it died myself or else it would carry on decaying until it was just bones moving around._

_If you are a born necromancer who has come across this book, I ask of you to please practice before taking on bigger projects such as summonings or resurrections on living and breathing creatures. Start small, I recommend a plant or very small animal like a mouse._

_If you are not a born necromancer but are seeking to learn death magic you should be warned that your core affinity will weigh heavily on your success: magi with light cores will only succeed in poisoning themselves while dark cores have the most potential in becoming successful in the art of death magic._

_For all necromancers, born or not, I advise you to not get frustrated in your endeavours as it will grant you nothing but failure._

_Learn patience and control first, learn to defend second and attack last, not in any other order or you will end up six feet under._

_Loralai Fontaine.’_

So, the exact same thing happened to Harry in a lapse of control over his emotions. That tells Harry you can focus the magic on your emotions as well as your intentions if you wish to do as such. 

“Lunch, Harry!” Sirius’ voice calls, as the man knocks loudly on the door. A glance at the clock shows Harry he’s been entranced in the book for actual hours, reading each word carefully, knowing he’s found others like himself. He’s not alone in this. 

Harry eats lunch in a daze, caught up in what he’s just found out, the words of Loralai Fontaine twirling through his mind. 

Stabbing the sausage on his plate, he wonders why his first bout of accidental necromancy was so much younger than the author of the book and on an exponentially bigger scale. 

The author killed a small dog —much like Harry wishes he could do to Marge Dursley’s dog, Ripper— and he killed three people: two adults and one teenager his own age. 

Then Loralai alluded that without honing the magic it will most likely kill you, yet here Harry is. Sick as he might be, Harry knows he’s going to get better, he’s absolutely sure of it, that’s why her words make no sense to Harry. 

He supposes he’ll have to train his necromantic nature after all. He may hate his magic with every fibre of his being at the moment, but if he’s not careful he’ll risk putting Sirius and Remus in the same position of the Dursley’s. 

Just thinking about losing them makes his eyes slight prickle with tears. If he loses the two of them then he’ll really be all by himself; he’d rather not live with the Weasley’s at the burrow permanently. 

Being so lost in thought, Harry misses the usual awkward atmosphere that he created when he called Mrs Weasley out a few days ago for neglecting Percy. Normally, Harry can fill the silence by chatting to his godfathers but try as they might to catch Harry’s attention, he just can’t hear a word they’re saying, lost in the depths of his mind. 

“Harry!” He’s jarred from his thoughts by Sirius shaking his shoulder so harshly he flinches away on reflex. 

“Uh, y-yes, Sirius?” He asks, trying to calm his thumping heart as it tries to jump out of his body. 

“We’ve been calling your name for about twenty minutes now,” Sirius explains, brushing Harry’s fringe out of his eyes. 

“Sorry,” Harry murmurs sheepishly.

“Don’t apologise prongslet, we weren’t talking about anything interesting anyways,” Sirius placates, threading his fingers through Harry’s hair as he leans over the back of his chair. 

“I need to go grocery shopping,” Harry acknowledges, staring down at the sandwiches Remus had thrown together with the leftovers in the fridge. 

“You’re not going anywhere!” Mrs Weasley interrupts, forcing Harry to realise everyone has been listening to him and Sirius talk like they’re the most interesting things in the room —and Harry’s sure the clock started bouncing a few minutes ago. 

“Says who?” Harry grumbles, washing his and Sirius’ plates quickly. 

“Dumbledore’s orders!” She smiles smugly, standing with her hands on her hips in the kitchen doorway. 

“And I’ve already said he cannot stop me from doing anything,” Harry repeats, growing steadily angrier when these people keep trying to force Dumbledore’s ideas on him. 

“He most certainly can!” She blusters angrily. 

“The headmaster has no say in what I do as he is no guardian of mine,” Harry growls. 

“And who’s a more suitable guardian than the headmaster?” She hisses. 

“Anyone, even my parents do more for me than he does.” The room stills and he hears Sirius’ sharp intake of breath besides Remus’ gasp. “My parents didn’t die for me to be bossed around by old men and their followers.”

“Get out of the way, Molly,” Sirius cuts in sharply, tone not calling for any protesting. 

“Why should I?” She tests. 

“Because if you don’t within the second I’ll make you move,” he threatens, raising his wand. 

“Harry won’t let you curse me, will you, dear?” She asks, eyes narrowed on Harry who remains standing to the side and unamused. 

“Yes,” Harry hums and that’s all it takes for Sirius to cast a spell that has Mrs Weasley flying down the hall, crashing loudly into the wall with a scream. “100 points!” Harry calls after a moment, prompting a loud bout of laughter from Sirius who remains the only person looking unbothered by the whole ordeal. 

Harry sighs, pushing of the wall he had slumped against when Mrs Weasley refused to move and makes his way upstairs to grab a coat and shoes. 

“Hey, kiddo,” Sirius says, fidgeting in the doorway of Harry’s room. 

“Spit it out,” Harry acknowledges, watching the man shuffle from side to side. 

“Do you want to wear some of my clothes instead of those rags, it’s just, i’m way more stylish and those rags look terribly thin and London’s always been cold—“ Harry cuts him off by slapping a hand over his mouth. 

“Sure, Mr ‘I’m way more stylish but I still wear the same black robes everyday’,” Harry teases, to which Sirius growls and drags him down the hall. 

“I have a lot of muggle clothes from when I was a rebellious teen, my later clothes have probably all been burnt, alongside my once apartment. These are the only clothes I have here that fit me,” Sirius rambles. Harry decides not to ask more on the topic with the way his godfathers eyes flit about. 

“Well, we’ll go shopping at some point before I go back to school,” Harry soothes. Sirius grins madly and throws a pair of joggers at him with a black shirt. 

“Go change!” Sirius demands, ushering him into the bathroom between their rooms. 

Harry sighs when he’s finished changing, looking in the mirror at the bold red writing detailing some band he’s never heard of, AC/DC —considering his childhood he’s not all that surprised in his lapse of knowledge. He’s happily surprised that the grey jogging bottoms fit, if only a little loose around his hips with the cord tied at its maximum. 

Walking back into his room, he shucks his other clothes and grabs his raincoat, pulling it on to cover the scars the short sleeves don’t and his only pair of trainers that are scuffed and worn at the edges. 

“Wow! Look at you!” Sirius wolf whistles in the doorway and Harry throws a book at him without looking back, snorting when he hears Sirius yelp at impact. 

“Well, I’m off then,” Harry declares, picking up his gringotts pouch he’s sure changes into muggle money as well —he checks once to be sure and finds he’s right when he pulls out an actual credit card in his name, not even just bills or coins. 

“Do you want me to come with you?” Sirius asks carefully, following him down the stairs. 

“It’s alright, you can come next time but I don’t think Remus will survive Mrs Weasley’s ranting on his own,” Harry declines. He’s not sure whether Sirius wants to escape Mrs Weasley’s wrath or if he just feels trapped, but until Harry has an example of what his immunity truly means, he’s not risking Sirius for it. 

“Okay pup, be back soon,” Sirius sighs, giving Harry a quick hug before leading him to the doorway, past the kitchen in which they hear Mrs Weasley screeching like a banshee. 

“Here,” Harry says, placing Hestia in Sirius’ hand, “a token to remember me with.” Sirius’ smile is more of a grimace and he soon drops the pretence, wrinkling his nose unhappily. 

“Take your cloak just in case!” Remus calls down the hall.

“Got it!” Harry replies, feeling the fabric in his (or well, Sirius’) left trouser pocket. 

Standing outside of Grimmauld place, Harry feels off-kilter. He hasn’t left the house in over a week nearly two, that’s the longest he’s remained entirely inside since... well, ever. 

He had started to think he was getting cabin fever, the walls unreasonably caging around him. He supposes it’s because he’s used to being outside, working in the garden or visiting the park, anything that kept him out of number four Privet Drive. 

Ironically he’s always been an outsider, in every sense. 

Making his way down the street, he resists the urge to look back at Grimmauld place, knowing he’ll go straight back, afraid of having to leave the house to go back to the Dursley’s again —he soothes his fears by reminding himself he’ll back be before the day ends, before dinner even, perhaps even to make dinner. 

Feeling something digging into his side from inside his coat, he sighs, realising Sirius has slipped his wand into the interior pocket without his knowledge. He doesn’t want to be around his wand, it makes him antsy and nervous. 

The supermarket isn’t far from Grimmauld place, or at least the muggle one isn’t, just a quick bus ride downtown. 

As he steps out of the bus, he’s not exactly surprised to spot a familiar face waiting down the road besides an unfamiliar face, no doubt for him. He’s sure someone reported his appearance as soon as he left the Grimmauld wards and was recognised at first glance. 

“Mr Rosier, Ms Hawthorne, hello,” he greets cordially. He’s sure it’s Vienna Hawthorne because as far as Snape’s informed them there’s only two marked female followers (he can see the pulsing dark magic laying on her left arm) and this one has blonde hair —he’s not sure why she isn’t exactly hiding her appearance but the waves of magic emanating off her indicate a focused glamour or notice-me-not charm that doesn’t include him in the midst apparently. 

“Please, it’s Vienna,” she responds, smiling at him as she stares from behind her sunglasses —he’s not sure why it’s a common theme to offset people’s recognition with sunglasses, probably something to do with their eye colour giving them away. She doesn’t look remotely surprised at him recognising her so it must be purposeful that he’s excluded from whatever charm she’s hiding herself with —Harry thinks even if he was included in her charm there’d be a high possibility he saw through it anyways. 

“Evan,” the blond man corrects, falling into step beside Harry as he continues down the road on his path to the supermarket. 

“Then call me, Harry,” he replies, humming in acknowledgment. 

“Soooo,  Harry , what’re we doing in the muggle world today?” Vienna asks, skipping besides them, her white sundress swaying with the movement. 

“I need to get groceries,” Harry answers, deciding to ignore the ‘we’ part of her sentence. 

“Groceries?” Evan deadpans. 

“Yes, groceries. You know? The food you buy to cook with?” Harry mocks. 

“I know what groceries are!” Evan blusters, his cheeks flushing slightly. 

“I think he wants to know why you’re the one getting them,” Vienna adds, as if the other two weren’t already aware. 

“I’m used to buying groceries and I wanted to get out of the house anyways,” Harry confides, unsure how to tell them he doesn’t want Mrs Weasley infecting the food with magic before it even reaches the fridge. 

“Used to buying them?” Evan observes, narrowing his eyes at Harry. Harry mentally winces at his slip-up. 

“I like to help out,” he lies fluidly. 

Watching the two follow him into the supermarket, he struggles to contain his laughter as they ogle the automatic sliding doors. 

“Did you do that? We’re surrounded by muggles! Surely you learnt not to do magic around them after your trial,” Evan worries, making Harry laugh harder.

“It’s a muggle invention, they have sensors that open when you get in range,” Harry explains, pointing at the archway of the door where the sensors lay. 

“What the fuck does muggle mean skank?” A surly looking man that reminds him of Uncle Vernon inquires, obviously having overheard them and taken the word as an insult to his name. 

Smiling humourlessly, Harry replies blandly, “They’re foreigners.” 

The man grunts once at the explanation and turns away, leaving Harry to sneer at his back before grabbing a trolley. 

“Are you just going to let him call you a skank?” Vienna asks carefully, keeping her voice down a bit now. 

“I know what I am, I don’t need to argue over what I’m not,” Harry remarks, leading then away from the entrance. 

“And what are you then?” Evan asks and Harry watches him discreetly cast a privacy charm around the three of them, the wispy magic encasing them like a bubble. 

_ A monster. A freak. Unnatural _ _._ Harry could say many things about himself currently, but withstands sparking curiosity from a group of Death Eaters. Death Eaters are able to stay hidden for a reason, research goes into many things they do and he’s not pushing them to research his meaning behind those words —the Dursley’s twisted bodies flash through his mind, unbidden in cruel, sharp twists that leaves him shivering once to shake the memories off. 

So, instead, he replies, “Just Harry.” A small smile playing on his lips at the irony of that statement. They eyes him funnily but say nothing more on that statement. They were probably waiting for the inevitable Boy-Who-Lived answer, but Harry’s not sure he’s all that alive anymore. 

“Isn’t that a lot of eggs?” Vienna raises an eyebrow with a giggle as he picks up two cartons, each containing a dozen medium sized eggs. 

“Well there’s two people who do most of the cooking at him and I don’t want to use the same things Mrs Weasley does,” Harry explains. 

“You cook for them?” Evan picks up, looking at him expectantly with fire in his eyes. 

Harry shrugs, “I don’t mind cooking anymore.” 

“ _Anymore_ ,” Evan repeats pointedly. 

“You win some, you lose others,” Harry riddles, not wanting the Dursley’s to come up at all, let alone at the very start of his expedition. He came out here to get away from those thoughts, from the book in the library and the vision-like nightmares that haunt him in his room. 

“That’s a positive saying,” Vienna chirps, unabashedly poking packaged meat on the shelf to giggle when blood squishes against the barrier ( _“_ _squelchy!_ _”_ She whispers in awe). 

“It’s a muggle saying,” Harry replies, relishing in the grimace that overtakes her face at the mere word. 

“It’s not so positive anymore,” she agrees, Harry nodding solemnly while Evan barely contains his amusement. 

They continue down the isles, Harry absently listening to his two companions arguing as he fills the shopping cart, checking items off his mental list. 

“Listen, Vivi, there’s no way Lucy would win in a fight against Lixy,” Evan states, emphasising his words frantically. 

“I don’t know, one day Lucy is gonna get sick of Lixy driving him up the wall. I’d say they both have a fair chance at offing each other,” Vienna argues. 

“Hey kid, what’re those two wackos on about?” A wide-eyed man that looks to be in his early twenties asks, leaning down to whisper into Harry’s ear. 

Harry snorts slightly, watching the two stay blissfully unaware of the strange looks they’re getting before responding to the man, “wrestlers.”

“Uh-huh,” the man replies, eyeing them disbelievingly before shrugging and moving on. London is the crux of all strange matters nowadays anyways, how’s two loonies talking about their Death Eater friends (dubbed wrestlers) killing each other any different from the usual. 

“What’d the vermin want, Harry?” Vienna hisses, wrapping an arm possessively around his shoulders while glaring at the man’s back as he walks away. 

“To know what you two were on about.”

“What’d you come up with this time?” Evan asks, an amused quirk to his lips. 

“Wrestlers,” Harry says, prompting a laugh from blond, “the supermarket really isn’t the place to be discussing your murder plans.” He stares warningly at the two of them and they have the decency —as Death Eaters— to look vaguely sheepish. 

“I have a privacy charm up!” Evan argues. 

“It fell a few minutes ago,” Harry says casually. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He whines, leaning his chin on Harry’s head pathetically. 

“It was amusing,” Harry dismisses. 

He doesn’t really mind when people touch him much anymore. As long as it’s not painful or uncomfortable, he’d rather the touch remind him he’s still a person, a contrast to the Dursley’s after their revival when he was unable to touch them and they couldn’t even see him. 

When it comes to dark magic users anyways. 

“You can cast it then,” Evan pouts. 

“Underage.” Harry points to himself, hoping they don’t notice the slight tremble in his hand at the mention of using his magic. 

“You do have your wand, don’t you?” Evan chastises slowly, looking him up and down. 

“Promise,” Harry replies, opening his coat to reveal the pocket pointedly but avoiding touching it still. 

“Why don’t you use a holster or something?” Vienna asks as they enter the frozen section. 

“Don’t have one,” — _don’t want my wand near my skin in case it burns through_ — “I’ll asks Sirius if he has one.”

“Sirius? Sirius Black?” Evan asks bemused. 

“Don’t tell me you question his innocence when you work with Pettigrew, the disgusting rat,” Harry snarls. 

“Not a fan of little Peter then, are you?” Vienna teases. 

“He’s a coward, I hold no love for cowards,” Harry answers. Pettigrew is one person he doesn’t care for no matter which way his magic swings, he’d rather just see the man dead, preferably have his head to gift to Sirius — _getting morbid now, Harry_ . 

“I can tell,” Evan croons, ruffling Harry’s hair, much to his annoyance. 

“Why the hell is it so cold?” Vienna asks, looking around warily. 

It’s then Harry realises that as an Azkaban escapee, she’d find the cold discomforting as a reminder of the dementors. Hell, it’d discomfort Harry if he hadn’t grown up in the cold seeing as there’s no heater near the cupboard under the stairs and Winter’s were gruellingly icy. 

“Freezers: keeps the food cold because they don’t have magic.” Harry keeps an eye on the blonde as he methodically grabs frozen vegetables, meat and then, further down, ice cream, as an indulgence. 

“Ice cream?” Evan teases. 

“Hush,” Harry warns. 

Making his way to the counters, he places everything on the till, reaching into his pocket so he can grab his card. 

After bagging everything up and paying it, he lets the duo help him carry the bags into an alleyway where Evan shrinks them and casts a lightweight charm so Harry can put the little bags in his pocket. 

“You didn’t steal them!” Vienna sulks disappointedly. 

“I don’t need to,” Harry rebukes. 

“Well, nice to see you darling, looking forward to when we meet again,” Evan says, a wry smile on his lips. 

“Nice to meet you Vienna. I’ll see you both around,” Harry tells them, before turning with a wave and making his way back to the bus stop. 

“Nice kid,” Vienna muses. “Glad I voted for immunity.”

Harry listens to them disapparate with a smile before his eye catches on a small store. He hesitates before entering. 

“Why do you have a tray of potted plants?” Remus deadpans when Harry places them on the table after entering the kitchen. 

“The library lacks life,” Harry replies, technically not lying. 

“Damn right it does,” Sirius agrees solemnly. 

“Please tell me you actually got groceries?” Remus begs, staring at the half-dozen plants in dismay. 

Harry nods, taking the bags out of his pocket and placing them down. 

“You didn’t use magic outside did you?” Sirius asks sharply. 

“I ran into Mr Rosier and he shrank them for me.”

“Why was Evan Rosier in the muggle world?” Sirius asks with narrowed eyes. 

“Coincidence,” Harry retorts with a cheshire grin. 

“I don’t trust it,” Sirius growls lowly. 

“You don’t have to. But you do have to unshrink the shopping,” Harry says, smiling blandly as hell gestures to the group of bags. 

“Brat,” Sirius mumbles fondly. 

“Anyways, it’s not like they lied about the immunity considering they only talked to me. I’m not injured nor dead nor even upset,” Harry reminds him happily. 

“Technicalities!” Sirius starts unloading the food into the fridge with Remus’ help, scowling over his shoulder at Harry. 

“Bad time to say Vienna was also there?” Harry asks sheepishly. 

Sirius lets out a sound like a dying cat and whines loudly. “You call her Vienna? She— oh my god Harry you’ve befriended a confirmed Death Eater,” he bemoans. 

“Snape says she keeps devils snare in her purse,” Harry chirps, watching his godfather sink to the floor and clutch his knees. 

“I’m never letting you leave the house without me again!” Sirius announces, jumping up and clinging to Harry, who topples over under Sirius’ heavy frame. 

“I’m going back to the library.”

“Noooooooo!”

Staring blankly at the potted plant in front of him as he sits on the floor before the coffee table, he wonders how to go about this. 

He supposes he should start by letting himself actually think about the aftermath of the dementor attack. 

Even now, over two weeks after the attack, he cannot bring himself to regret killing them —besides, didn’t Loralai say that resurrection only works if it’s something you truly want to do, like a safety clause for anyone trying to enforce a necromancer to revive someone with other methods. So, no, seeing as the Dursley’s are rotting, he definitely doesn’t regret killing them. 

Guilt? Does he feel guilty? Not really. Why should he feel guilty? The deprived him of a childhood and forced him to mature faster than any other child his age Harry knows of. They continuously put his life at risk, be it due to freezing or starving or even bleeding to death. 

Who will miss them in the end? Nobody. If it had just been the adults, perhaps Dudley would miss his parents —leaving Dudley alive, if he had any say in what happened, would’ve caused complications anyways and Dudley would blame him without knowing the truth or not. The only plausible person to miss them would be Marge Dursley and even she’s so self absorbed that she won’t notice their demise, too caught up in caring for her dog and boasting about her shot-put skills to her own set of neighbours. 

Harry is suddenly reminded that Vernon did in fact have a job, that he hasn’t left the house and now that’ll cause an issue in case anyone from Grunnings goes to check up on him; Harry tells Hestia to remind him he has to write a letter later and take it with him to post the muggle way next time —maybe two letters, just to be sure Dudley’s school doesn’t become suspicious when he doesn’t appear next year. 

There’s got to be some sort of smell-blocking ward on the house; Harry doesn’t have enough fingers to count how many times he was so beaten up that it smelled like a corpse for weeks on end and nobody complained except the other residents of number four. So, the smell is dealt with. 

Petunia missing book club won’t be anything new considering she rarely goes once a year unless something worth hearing about has truly happened, or she wants to gossip somewhere that isn’t over the fence to number five as the lady gardens. 

Dudley’s friends will probably be more relived than upset that he’s gone, barring Piers Polkins who was Dudley’s childhood friend, but he’s too cowardly to question Dudley’s absence and too afraid of Harry after the snake incident to even approach number four without Dudley picking him up first. 

Now, what did he feel when his magic lashed out: Fear of no longer having his home; anger at the ministry and basically the entire world; shame of being caught out; unimaginable pain left over from the dementors; confusion as to why he’s being watched, being left in the dark, being abandoned, being turned against once again. 

All negative emotions. 

What did he feel when reviving them: pretty much the same as when he killed them but with fear of being found out as the leading factor. 

So, strong emotions. That much he can compare to parallels in Loralai’s story, in which she felt fear and anger at minimum. 

Coming to terms with the fact that his only guilt comes from his inability to save any of the people who’ve died before is easier than it sounds in hindsight —because it’s just that, he had no way to save them, it’s not his fault. 

It’s not his fault. That’s the centre of all his problems; he believes every bad thing that happens to be his fault. It’s not. 

He can work more on dealing with his emotions some other time, he decides, he’s worked through one major trauma in his life now and with it being the most recent one, he thinks he’s done decently. 

He needs to get angry. 

Ten minutes later he’s ventured to his room and back to pick up the measly pile of letters (notes) he’s received since the end of fourth year, before arriving at Grimmauld. 

Sitting back down in front of the small plant, he begins to read. 

Anger starts to boil beneath his skin, familiar anger, vexation and resentment. 

This time, he does nothing to stop the molten bitumen flooding his veins, the crimson blurring his vision. 

Hedwig is safely tucked away with Hestia in the kitchen so he has nothing to worry about harming up here; The books have anti-damage charms on that should hold if this experiment goes wrong. 

The papers start to singe at the edges, the air filling with the scent of an autumn afternoon tinged with cinnamon and gingerbread. 

Magic starts rising from its dormant state under Harry‘s skin and he throws the papers aside, leaning to wrap his hands around the pot but not touching the plant —controlling the magic means no direct contact. 

He closes his eyes and pushes forward, warmth spreading into his hands until he’s sure the skin is blistering like Icarus after venturing too close to the sun but he’s not ignoring his fathers advice or in this case, Loralai and Amara’s lovers advice. 

Slowly, he peels his eyes open, blinking in surprise when he finds the plant’s leaves withering and brown in contrast to the lively, healthy green they were earlier. 

It’s worked so far. 

Now, he squeezes his eyes shut again and wishes for the plant to come back to life, praying to anyone who’s listening that this works. 

The feeling in his hands this time is just as warm but not as spicy, sweet and innocent like a lovers caress on a cold winters night. Harry opens his arms and welcomes the feeling. 

He loses himself to the magic for what could’ve been hours, relishing in the embrace of the familiar purple tendrils that look a lot less menacing than they once did. 

When he opens his eyes again, he’s missed dinner and sitting in front of him is a perfectly healthy plant, probably even healthier than before. 

Now, all he needs to do is keep this plant as a control while he practises on the others; The Dursley’s didn’t start rotting until a few days after their initial deaths so he’ll need to leave this plant untouched and care for it, watch its progress until he’s sure he’s officially revived the plant. 

Harry eventually passes out then, slumping back against the armchair. 

For the first time in years, he sleeps peacefully and undisturbed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vienna: KILL ALL MUGGLES!!!
> 
> Harry: okay sweetie.
> 
> So Harry meets Vienna! The reason for his immunity! How do y’all like my baby Vivi?
> 
> Harry gets to practise his death magic finally!! Be warned, I literally made up everything I wrote about Necromancy because what the fuck is research useful for in my imagined fic???? Answer: it’s not.
> 
> This chapter ended up way longer than I thought it was going to be and I’m pleasantly surprised I’m over 50K words before starting chapter 10.
> 
> Next chapter I’m ready to introduce someone who’s been long awaited— sort of. I have some drama planned but if it’ll be next chapter I’m unsure, it probably will be knowing me.
> 
> Molly Bashing again all because my boyfriend was saying he didn’t want to read her anymore and I was like well fuck u what do u know?? She finally gets cursed as well but what will the consequences of that be?? Find out next time on YSHTOH. 
> 
> This chapter didn’t really take that long after I’d started it, maybe two or three days instead of the usual week+ it takes me so I think I’ve grown attached to this story and want to actually get someone with it (Harry isn’t even back at Hogwarts yet lmao)!
> 
> I’m thinking about adding more interludes from Death Eaters, just to spice everything up a bit ;)


	10. Exorcism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER:  
> No this is not what Christians really act like, I have portrayed them like this because Mrs Weasley doesn’t understand Christianity as a witch and taken creative liberties.

The plant is still thriving, three days after the initial experiment. The others he’s used to practice control on but they’re all still very much alive.

Turning down the street, letters in one hand and Padfoots leash in the other, he wonders why all this magic feels so natural to him. 

Mrs Weasley had tried to stop him leaving again on his way out, screeching about being rebellious and how he’s going to get them all exposed, further then, dead. 

He wonders why he ever thought this was his war to fight, why everyone thought it was acceptable to thrust all responsibility of the outcome onto his shoulders the day his parents died and Sirius was locked up —the answer is simple, there was no one left to fight against those claims for him when it would’ve meant anything. 

Fighting, all he’s ever known is fighting. His mother didn’t sacrifice her life for him to spend his surviving and barely alive. Dumbledore preaches about him honouring her sacrifice yet does not do the same and goes against his parents only wishes of him having a happy life. 

Everything wrong in his life ties back in to Dumbledore: the scars on his back as the man had sent him to the Dursley’s; his lack of knowledge on the Wizarding World as the old fool had purposefully withheld all information without Harry even knowing the man was doing so; his selflessness he knows the man had probably killed for to ensure it stayed with him. Not that he needs selflessness anymore, right now his main priority is surviving the purge his body is undertaking —he has no time to look after anyone else right now when he can barely stand on his own two feet. 

“Hello sweetheart, looking a little lost in thought there!” A voice calls as someone throws their arm around him. He flinches on instinct before moving to make it look like he was shifting his grip on the leash, his jaw gritting in annoyance at his natural reflexes momentarily. 

Padfoot growls lowly when he fails to respond, rounding to sit on Harry’s feet to get him to pay attention. 

“Get off, you’re going to break my toes,” Harry teases. Padfoot tilts his head before complying hesitantly, moving to walk in between Harry and their two guests. “Hello Evan, and friend,” he replies belatedly. 

“You look horrible,” Evan observes. 

“Yes, thank you for pointing out the obvious,” Harry deadpans. It’s true, he does look dreadful. Mrs Weasley has spent the past few days screaming their ears off about anything she can think of and Harry’s been plagued with more of those dreadful dreams of nonsensical things and Privet Drive. Using so much of his magic as well has taken a toll on him, but it’ll be worth it if no one else gets hurt he supposes. 

“Anywho, this is Lixian Fawcett,” Evan introduces his companion. “Lixy, this is Harry.”

“Is this the one who’d supposedly win in a fight against Mr Malfoy?” Harry raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching when Evan blusters to deny it. 

“Oh Eve! I didn’t know you thought so highly of little old me!” Lixian swoons, latching on your Evan’s arm. 

“Don’t call me that,” Evan warns, sighing resignedly. “Why’re you out here anyways pumpkin?” Evan asks, looking down at Padfoot curiously. 

“Letters to post,” Harry admits vaguely, the letters sitting in his pocket like a sealed coffin. 

“You don’t use owls?” Lixian asks curiously, moving around to stand on the other side of him, ignoring Padfoots annoyed whine at not being able to separate all three of them. 

“I do,” Harry says. 

“Then why’re you...?” He asks, furrowing his brows. 

“I have some letters that need to get to muggles that I know won’t appreciate owls on principle.” Harry remembers Vernon and Petunia’s reactions to the owls each time, one of their last reactions being to shriek at owls a few weeks ago, minutes before their demise. Those two always surrounded themselves with people like them, the crux of normality so Harry would be surprised if they worked (well, Vernon worked and Petunia let him work) with anyone who was anything more or less than average. 

“Are they important?” Evan inquires and even Padfoot looks curious now, not knowing the reason for their excursion previously. 

Harry shakes his head mutely.  Do not spike their curiosity , he reminds himself. 

“Well, you wouldn’t mind coming to get food with us after then?” Evan smirks, throwing his arm back around Harry’s shoulder, acting as though he hasn’t heard Padfoot’s warning growls this time. 

“Why do you have a grim?” Lixian ponders, staring at Padfoot in unconcealed awe. 

“That’s Sirius,” Harry tells him, waiting until he’s already petting Padfoot to admit so. 

Lixian pulls back as if burnt, a look of disgust on his face as he glares at Harry. Harry snickers. Padfoot growls and nips Harry’s knee. 

“Oh shut up Padfoot, they can’t hurt me and if they try and hurt you well...”  I’ll probably end up killing them no matter their intentions . 

He thinks he might regret killing these people, unlike his relatives. 

“You’ll what?” Evan teases. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Harry mumbles despondently. “Wait out here please,” Harry says, handing Padfoot’s leash to Evan before opening the door to the post office. 

Minutes later, Harry’s leaving the post office again, sighing in relief at the whole ordeal finally coming to a close (for now at least). 

The cashier had been horribly rude but Harry supposes he deserves it after what he’s done, even if he was just asking to buy a stamp instead of already having them on the envelopes. 

“Where are we going for food then?” Harry inquires, taking Padfoots leash and starting back off down the street at a sedate pace. 

“I haven’t had fish and chips in a while,” Lixian comments, a look of pleading mixed in with longing in his eyes as he stares into nothing. 

“There’s a good fish and chip shop down the road from here,” Harry remarks, changing courses as Lixian bounces excitedly next to him. 

“Have you not been sleeping well?” Evan catechises, as he stares at the dark bags under Harry’s eyes. 

Harry scowls, very aware that he looks like a zombie and that this is the second time they’ve pointed it out already “No, but what’s it to you anyways?” He grumbles, snubbing Padfoot as he nudges Harry’s hand —Harry knows Sirius will be grilling him on that later. 

“Our Lord has been telling us about the interesting snippets he sees in your mind,” Lixian adds unhelpfully and Evan glares at him pointedly as Harry shudders. 

“How unfortunate for him,” Harry mumbles. “Just tell him to shut the link, I know he can. Or I’ll shut him out,”  by getting my protective voice to close my mind . 

“Right,  you’ll shut him out,” Evan mocks knowingly. Harry grunts as Evan teasingly elbows him, his chest still hurting from his latest bout of coughing. 

“Are you hurt?” Lixian stares down at Harry’s side as Harry wraps his free arm around his waist in comfort. 

“No,” Harry says shortly. He’s not lying, not exactly. He’s not physically hurt but internally hurt, if he was to phrase it in a way they would understand without knowing the events of the dementor fiasco. 

A few minutes later, Harry is brought out of his mind by Padfoot nudging him. He looks up to find they’ve arrived at the fish and chip shop. So, unaware of the concerned looks exchanged behind his head, he makes his way inside, happy that they allow dogs with them because it’s still quite chilly outside even in Sirius’ thicker clothes. 

“What do you want?” He asks them, knowing they’d both probably rather avada kedavra themselves than interact with muggles —so would Harry lately but you can’t always have what you want. 

Orders remembered, he makes his way over to the counter to order for the three of them, getting himself something smaller considering he’s not entirely hungry to begin with —he only left Grimmauld to post some letters, he didn’t count on meeting anyone this time but in hindsight he should’ve expected it. 

“Will that be all sir?” The bored looking cashier with blueberry tinted hair asks, popping a piece of bubblegum (it’s terribly cliché if you ask Harry). He must be working here as a summer job to make some extra cash, he looks old enough to be in college after all. 

“Yes, thank you,” Harry replies, mustering up a soft smile because he knows how it is to work and only have people —in his case, the Dursley’s— glare at you or whisper while you have nowhere else to go unless you’re looking for trouble. The boy seems thankful either way and hesitantly smiles back albeit looking confused still and slightly wary. 

“Bon Appétit,” he murmurs, placing the styrofoam boxes of food on the table. 

The two eagerly open their boxes, digging in immediately. Harry wonders where Evan’s pureblood manners ran off to, Lixian he can excuse because he’s just gotten out of Azkaban. 

Harry mindlessly throws chips for Padfoot who catches them happily, his tail wagging in delight at finally being fed after having missed lunch to accompany Harry into muggle London. 

Harry does feel bad about the others being trapped in the house —except they’re the ones trapping themselves there. Harry has been given immunity so it’d be pointless to kidnap any of them as bait when they can’t even hurt Harry. Sirius as well has been especially trapped as he’s always being nagged at by the Order members for not acting his age even when he’s been put wrongly in Azkaban for over a decade so is still mentally in his twenties even while physically in his thirties. 

Harry hates the way Mrs Weasley says it’ll be his fault if they die because how could it possibly be his fault —he’s fifteen, how can she bare the guilt of placing their lives on his shoulders alone. 

Scrubbing at his face agitatedly, Harry wonders when his life did a total 180 —well he knows the when is the dementor attack but he wants to know why. 

Why does everything always happen to him? Why do the people who are supposed to protect him keep letting him get into these situations? There’s no way someone like Dumbledore, who knows everything that happens in Hogwarts when and where, has ever been unaware of what Harry and his old friends got up to. 

It’s starting to annoy Harry as he starts becoming aware of just how much information is being withheld from him: First magic, then his own reputation, then Sirius and he still doesn’t know why he’s the main target of all this violence. 

“Harry!” Evan nudges him and he lifts his head to glare at the man, rubbing his eyes tiredly. 

“What?” He mumbles. 

“You fell asleep a while ago,” Evan murmurs, looking sheepish at having woken Harry up. 

“I wasn’t asleep,” Harry deadpans. He hadn’t fallen asleep, just closed his eyes and let himself think with the lull of the Death Eaters talking in the background. 

“Oh...” Evan raises his hand to rub at his neck embarrassedly. Harry raises an unamused eyebrow, how observant of them. 

“Your skills never fail to astound me.” Harry swoons in a monotone voice that has Lixian spitting his sprite out onto Padfoot who yells unhappily. 

“Ugh, I know I’m so impressive,” Evan agrees dramatically, nodding seriously. 

Harry sits there quietly, watching the pair teasing each other. They’re Death eaters, he knows that much from his stupid magic sight detecting the pulsing darkness on their left arms. 

They must know what they’re fighting for, he’s sure Voldemort wouldn’t withhold sensitive information to save their sensitive feelings —Voldemort never cared much for how others felt after all, he’s the Dark Lord for a reason. 

As a Dark Lord, Harry realises, that Voldemort must not allow himself to pity anyone or anything otherwise he wouldn’t be starting another war. The casualties of the last one were drastic and they’re going to be this time as well whether they think Harry can lessen them or not is irrelevant. Harry isn’t going to use his magic to revive those who chose to fight unless he thinks it’s in his own interest. 

“Why do you follow the Dark Lord?” He asks after a moment of contemplation. The two startle and turn to him with wide eyes, while Padfoot leans heavily against Harry’s leg, in warning of comfort Harry doesn’t know. “I mean, you must know what you’re fighting for, right?” He continues, seeing the blank expressions he’s familiar with from the pureblood as at his school settle into place —not that he scared of their expressions by any means. 

“Do you know what you’re asking?” Lixian considers him, narrowed eyes glued to Harry’s own. 

“The question came from my mouth didn’t it?” Harry snarks, leaning back with a huff. He shouldn’t of expected them to be any different really, he’s a child in everyone eyes; they think they can force him to fight a war but they don’t let him know why. 

“Why do you think we’re fighting?” Evan asks eventually. 

Harry tilts his head, considering the question. He knows, of course, that the reasons they’re told of like muggle eradication and pureblood supremacy aren’t truly valid reasons —if those were the reasons behind fighting with Voldemort there would be a lot less Death Eaters, Harry’s sure. 

Harry knows that while Tom hates muggles, the other also knows what they’re capable of having grown up in a muggle warzone during the 1940’s. 

What was it that Tom had told him all those years ago in the chamber anyways? 

Finally, Harry picks his answer, “Equality,” —Tom had detested people thinking he was less than he was, he wanted to be thought of as their equals and not mud on the bottoms of their shoes— “at least that was the reason at the beginning of it all.” 

“And how did you come to that conclusion?” Lixian asks, but Harry knows he’s right by the glint of excitement and wonderment in his eyes. 

“Three years ago, I met...” Harry’s not sure how much they know about their own lord and he pauses momentarily, unsure how to word this. “Three years ago, I met a man. He was a half-blood orphan who grew up in the muggle warzone. He told me things about your beliefs that made sense more than the things everyone else preaches.” He decides that’s a suitable answer. 

“Who was this man?” Evan asks, leaning closer over the table as if he can pull the words from Harry’s soul. 

“That’s irrelevant now,” Harry says, humming softly. 

“What happened to him? Have you kept in contact with him?” Lixian needles, his eyes alight. 

“He’s dead.” That stops them short. Padfoot, who started paying attention as soon as the initial question left his lips, seems to understand what happened. 

“How did he die?” Evan interrogates. 

Harry, growing tired of the line of questioning, says sharply, “I killed him.” 

The two of them look uneasy now and Harry sees their hands discreetly moving closer to their wands. 

“...why?” They must think it’s because of Tom’s beliefs. 

“Because he tried to kill me.” There, that reassured them quickly enough but they also know the topic of conversation is over. 

“What do you fight for then, Harry?” Evan asks teasingly, his eyes glinting with unconcealed humour. 

“I don’t know,” Harry mumbles, standing suddenly and taking a hold of Padfoot’s lead. “Remus expected us back hours ago.” 

Remus was considerably worried when they came back, knowing they’d only left for Harry to post some letters but ended up coming back hours later than expected. 

“I told you it’s irresponsible of you to let them go out on their own, Remus. You can’t expect Sirius to protect Harry when he can’t protect himself,” Mrs Weasley chides as they enter the kitchen and Harry already feels a headache forming. 

“Mind your own business, Molly,” Remus chirps with mock politeness. 

Harry looks over to where Mrs Weasley is sitting with Hermione, raising an eyebrow at the myriad of books and items centring around the religion of Christianity. 

He hadn’t know anyone other than Mr Weasley was into muggle things. 

Hermione smiles indulgently at him and he nods in acknowledgment, tilting his head at the pile of books. She seems to understand his question and shrugs, seemingly as confused at the sudden interest as Harry is. 

“They’re going to get themselves killed—“

“Harry has immunity,” Sirius cuts in snappily. 

“It’s probably a farce,” Mrs Weasley sniffs haughtily. 

“It’s not,” Sirius retaliates sharply, shoving past her to open the fridge and grab a drink. 

“So you’ve been talking with Death Eaters?” She accuses nastily, pointing her finger at Harry. 

“I’m sure we’ve had this conversation before,” Harry responds halfheartedly, tired of being shouted and nagged at all the time. 

She flinches in remembrance and hisses frantically under her breath as she plops down besides Hermione again, pointing to something and asking a question in a low voice while glancing periodically at Harry. 

“Whatever,” Harry murmurs, not really all that interested in why she’s taken a shine to Christianity all of a sudden in the slightest. He turns on his heel, walking back up to the library and curling up in the little corner he’s made for himself. 

It’s just past midnight when Harry finds out why Mrs Weasley has decided to start dabbling in a religion entirely unknown to Wizard Kind with the exception of those muggle raised. 

He’s woken up by the same nonsensical nightmares as always, the unnervingly calm soothing voice still echoing in his ears as he ventures downstairs to get a glass of water. 

Freezing, he comes to a sudden halt in the doorway as he peers down into the dark room and sees Mrs Weasley sitting in just the candlelight at the head of the table, the opposite side to which Sirius usually sits. 

“Mrs Weasley?” He asks hesitantly because while she’s been unbearable lately, he doesn’t think he could stop caring about her so suddenly and she looks miserable right now. 

“Oh, Harry!” She perks up at his voice, a smile too-wide splitting across her lips in a way that unnerves Harry. “Hello dear, I knew you’d be coming down tonight!”

“Is there something you needed from me?” Harry asks, still drowsy from his short period of sleep. 

“Come, sit, I want to show you something,” she exclaims, gesturing wildly to the chair she was just sitting in. 

“Okay,” Harry mumbles obediently, moving to sit in the chair without any more complaints, too tired to muster any up. “What do you want to show me, Mrs Weasley?”

She frowns at him, looking thoughtful. Then, she’s tugging his chin to force him to look her in the eyes. Her frown seems to deepen as she carefully scans each eye. 

“Just as I thought,” she tuts. 

“Mrs Weasley?” Harry sighs, confused by her strange behaviour even in his dazed state. 

“ _Stupefy! Incarcerous!_ ” She says, casting both spells at Harry who’s then frozen and tied to the chair, unable to move. 

Harry starts to wake up now (belatedly), wishing he’d been more awake when he walked in here to get a glass of water. 

“Don’t worry dear, I’ve figured out what’s wrong with you and I’m going to fix you right up!” She coos and Harry wishes he could move to shake his head and deny the accusations of something being wrong with him vehemently. 

His mind swirls with possibilities go what she could’ve figured out: His necromancy? His curse purging? His magic sight?

Seeing his confused look she generously decides to explain what’s wrong with him. “You’re being possessed by demons and you’ll be happy to know Hermione kindly taught me all she knew about exorcism!” 

Harry’s mind goes numb and he stares at her in deadpan. Exorcism. He knows what that is of course; Aunt Petunia would never let a chance at normality pass, hence the frequent visits to all the churches within a twenty mile radius (more after nine of those worked) to try and exorcise the magic out of him. His ribs still bare scars from the wax the priests used time and time again until every church knew his face and knew not to let him in unless they wanted the demon to enter their holy grounds. 

Harry recognised the books in her hands almost immediately; a bible in one hand and a prayer booklet in the other she turns to him with a satisfied smile. 

“Don’t you worry Harry, I’ll make sure you’re back to normal soon!” She cheers. 

Harry’s nose can pick up the familiar scent of alcohol wafting from her clothes, however dull it is she’s close enough for him to smell it. He recognises it as red wine, merlot perhaps, like Aunt Petunia used to force him to pour for her while Vernon knocked back pint upon pint until his anger honed in on Harry, temper increased from lack of sobriety. 

So, she’s not sober but she’s not a bumbling drunk either: just tipsy. 

Harry has the sudden realisation that one of the ropes is curling around his neck, tying his head back against the chair’s. He couldn’t move if he wanted to anyways. 

“In the name of the father, the son and the Holy Spirit, May you help me cleanse this child of the devil tonight!” She chants and Harry’s breath catches with the familiar words he’s heard over and over again throughout his childhood before Aunt Petunia gave up on his eighth birthday. 

He starts to struggle when she reveals a chalice out of nowhere that he’s sure is actually boiling hot with the way the steam is rolling off it. 

The rosary beads come next and she pulls Harry’s head forward to slip them around his neck, the cross pressing into his Adam’s apple painfully. 

Harry can’t hear her chanting over the buzzing in his ears, his head ringing as the rope and rosary beads tangle tighter together, pressing painfully into the soft skin of his neck. 

“Oh Lord, hear my prayer!”

Panic claws at his throat and Harry can’t breathe as she grabs a candle and starts chanting as she pours the melted wax onto his bare forearms. Harry would scream if he could open his mouth. 

She moves then and pours the ‘holy water’ over her hands and she must have a protection spell on to stop the burning but Harry doesn’t so when she grabs him around the throat he can’t do anything but listen to his skin sizzling loudly as his eyes roll back into his head from pain. 

“It’s not working!” She hisses in annoyance, knocking the water over with a sweep of her hand and it tips over, splashing over Harry’s leg. 

“Why won’t that demon leave you alone?” She whispers, leaning down to brush Harry’s fringe out of his face. Her eyes latch onto Harry’s scar and her smile is scarily similar to a goblins at that moment. “That is what’s keeping the demons inside of you!” She crows in what Harry realises is her false realisation. “I’ll make sure the demons don’t want to stay inside you dearest!” She simpers. 

She pulls her wand out and trains it on Harry’s chest. “I’ll save you Harry,  _crucio!_ ”

Harry’s magic finally breaks through the stunning spell. Then Harry does finally scream: a high-pitched scream full of agony that tears apart his already mutilated throat that’s blistering still. 

Writhing in the chair, his relief at the sound of pounding footsteps and sounds of apparition is outweighed by the searing pain spreading through his veins. 

He wants it to stop. He needs it to stop. He thinks this is what dying might feel like. It’s more painful than anything he’s every felt before, including the dementor attack. 

His veins feel like they’re filled with molten bitumen, he doesn’t know whether the liquid running down his face is blood or tears and his limbs are stiff in anguish. Patches of skin are still blazing and the scent of burnt flesh fills the kitchen quickly. 

“ What the fuck! ” A voice bellows and suddenly the pain is gone with a loud crash that isn’t Harry. 

“ Finite Incantatem! ” Someone bellows and the ropes fall away. 

One of the people approaches him but Harry’s already running, running straight past them and their protests, running straight out the front door and into the moonlit street. 

“HARRY!” Comes from several voices behind him but Harry keeps running, sprinting even though the ground is tearing into the soles of his feet and he can’t feel his left leg or arms fully.

He runs for what could be hours, thankful that the lampposts are practically useless in London and barely light up a metre square of ground beneath them, concealing him as he goes. 

Like a shadow in the night, Harry speeds down streets, twisting and turning around corners with no way of knowing where to. 

He runs for hours, numb now to the initial pain in his body, shivering from the cold or the curse he’s not sure. 

Eventually, in the middle of a random park, his legs collapse and he falls to his knees, coughing harshly into his elbow, not surprised when he pulls away to find blood smothering the pale skin of his arm in excess amounts. 

Harry thinks he might be in shock; someone he trusted with his life had just tortured him for nearly an hour and he wasn’t even able to scream for help. 

He can’t believe Mrs Weasley would do this. Shaking, he crawls over to a bench, propping himself against it to curl up into his knees. 

He trusted her. He trusted her and once again his trust has been put into the wrong person: Dumbledore, the professors, Tom Riddle’s diary, Ron, his friends, the ministry. 

Silent, heaving sobs wrack his broken frame and he feels blood pooling around his feet, from where he’s not sure of but it’s definitely his blood, the distinct smell of copper wafting into his face through his knees. 

The sun is on the horizon now and Harry’s stuck in the same position as when he sat down, body rigid, unable to move without hurting himself. 

He’s in too much pain, physically and emotionally, to move. He can’t gather the energy to even lift his head at the moment. 

A purr is what helps him muster up the courage to lift his head, wincing the entire time. 

A scruffy black cat with bright blue eyes is rubbing up against his ankle, purring happily despite walking through blood that’s dried and blood that’s not. 

Harry narrows his eyes for a minute, pushing himself to concentrate through his headache and sure enough it was the right option to take despite the agony it puts him through. 

The cat is, as Harry had thought, encased in magic. Harry would’ve been gone as soon as he realised the cat is an animagus but he stays still for a multitude of reasons: he has immunity, the cat clearly isn’t trying to harm him, the magic surrounding the cat is familiar and... he can’t fully move yet. 

He’s been within range of this magic this year, it’s familiar in a intimate way in which his magic curls out to join the cats like it’s done so before. 

“Hello...” he whispers, voice hoarse and raspy. Leaning his chin on his knees, he watches the cat sit on his feet, eyes wide and staring up at him. 

The cat blinks up at him, tilting its head in question. Harry looks down to see the cat is injured as well, wounds on its side and front leg, bleeding sluggishly. 

“Well, I dont want to be alone and neither do you it seems so I’m taking you home with me,” Harry decides, pushing himself shakily up off the floor. 

The cats eyes widen as it catalogs Harry’s injuries, his torn pyjama trousers and bloody clothes. 

“C’mere,” Harry coaxes, gesturing to the bench. The cat jumps onto the bench, meowing softly and Harry uses the arm not wrapped around himself to scoop the feline up. 

Belatedly, Harry realises he has no idea where they are and quickly casts a wandless point me before following the streak of light in a stumble. 

He holds onto the wall, hobbling down the streets, with one arm and clings the cat to his chest in the other, aware of his need for something to cling to. 

Eventually, the sun is almost fully rising and Harry thinks it’s just after dawn when a few lights start to click on in houses they pass, so he starts to hobble faster until he’s standing shakily in front of Grimmauld. 

Pushing open the door, he lets the cat curl around his shoulders and stare curiously inside as he searches for anyone who could still be awake. 

When he sees no one in sight he tentatively makes his way upstairs, going straight to the library instead of his room. 

“Worthy Master is back!” Kreacher whispers excitedly as he pops into the library behind Harry as he’s shutting and locking the door just to be safe. 

“Hello Kreacher, do you have anything for our injuries?” Harry rasps quietly, aware his throat is probably the most damaged part of his whole body right now. 

Kreacher pops out and back in holding a few potion vials within the second. 

Harry thanks him softly and moves into the bathroom, the taps already filling the tub with extra soft lavender scented bubbles. 

“Okay, lets get to cleaning up,” Harry mumbles to himself. 

Gingerly, he places the cat down onto one of the steps leading into the bath, careful to not agitate any wounds. 

The cat doesn’t take long to heal and maybe Harry uses some extra magic but the cat doesn’t know that. 

Harry stares in the mirror for a moment, cringing as he realises the cross and rosary beads are almost melted into his skin. 

Holding his breath, he reaches up and grabs the necklace, ripping it out of his neck with a loud cry. The cat jumps up in alarm, meowing loudly and pawing at his feet as he pants over the sink, blood dripping from the cross shaped wound in his neck. 

He grabs the potion Kreacher left, pouring it over his hands and quickly pressing it to his neck. 

After that, uncaring of the confirmed animagus watching him, he strips down and gets into the bath, hissing as the water touches his sensitive skin. 

Finally, the potions Kreacher has obviously put in the water numbs the pain and his wounds start to stitch themselves back up, the wax washing off his arms. 

When his eyelids begin to flutter, the cat seems to decide it’s time for Harry to get up and drags a towel over in its mouth. 

“Are you a boy or a girl?” Harry asks suddenly. The cat meows, staring at him in deadpan. “Boy?” He guesses and the cat seemingly nods. 

That narrows down some of his guesses on who the cat is. 

Once dressed Harry decidedly doesn’t comment on the randomly appearing door that opens into a bedroom and carries on walking in, his injuries wrapped in bandages and wearing fresh pyjamas. 

Sliding under the covers, he settles down to sleep, the cat curling up on his chest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry: *has been tortured and is currently bleeding out*
> 
> Cat: ...
> 
> Harry: I’m lonely too, I’m taking you with me 
> 
> Harry: *gives no shits that he’s accosting an animagus*
> 
> So, welcome new player: blue eyed cat.
> 
> Damn sorry I sound so unenthusiastic I just broke up with my boyfriend and I’m not doing well overall lately but at least I got this chapter done after rewriting it like 17372838 times.
> 
> Lixian Fawcett is introduced this time and how do y’all feel about him?
> 
> Harry starts to ask questions!
> 
> Uhhhh what else? Oh yeah, this event will obviously have traumatic influence on Harry and serious consequences in his behaviour!


	11. Old Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: just mentions of blood?
> 
> Anyways enjoy this long awaited chapter that indefinitely didn’t forget to post <3

“THAT BITCH IS NOT STAYING IN MY HOUSE ANYMORE!” Sirius screams at Albus as he enters the house through the floo, Molly still bound on the floor the morning after the incident when Sirius is finally sure Harry’s home because he felt the shift in the wards.

Snape steps out a step behind him, looking throughly bewildered and quite concerned as he almost walks straight into a frozen Albus who halted the moment Sirius started screaming. 

“Sirius, I’ll need you to explain why Molly is bound first,” Albus says scoldingly, pointing his wand at the woman only to have Remus disarm him before he can, eyes glowing bright amber and his jaw gritted. 

“You are not cancelling my spell!” Remus promptly growls. 

“Your spell...?” Albus asks in confusion. 

“Yes, my spell. The spell I cast after coming down here at one in the fucking morning when I heard screaming to find Molly crucioing, Harry!” Remus snarls and Snape pales rapidly behind Albus. 

“Surely there’s been some big misunderstanding,” Albus soothes as patient as ever, as though he’s dealing with children. Sirius grips his wand tighter, almost daring the man to undermine his status as holder of the house wards. 

“She tried to exorcise him,” Hermione whispers quietly, picking up the bible Molly had seemingly dropped onto the table earlier. She scoops up a handful of beads, shakily exhaling as she stares at the small white orbs. “These are rosary beads, Harry must have the cross.” 

“It was around his neck,” Remus confirms through gritted teeth, as he grabs the goblet off the floor. “This, this is still hot!” He exclaims hysterically, slamming it down onto the table, grabbing fistfuls of his hair. 

“Now boys, Molly doesn’t even know what an exorcism is surely—“ 

Hermione, surprisingly, is the one who cuts Albus off this time, “She does know. I explained it to her earlier, I didn’t know she’d do this though!” Hermione’s eyes are wide and teary, obviously upset with herself for what she’s vicariously caused. 

“She’s an adult, there’s no way you can excuse her actions of torturing a child!” Remus barks loudly, glaring daggers at his ex headmaster. 

“Perhaps Mrs Weasley was under a curse,” Snape suggests. 

“Let’s check then,” Sirius sneers and roughly casts a finite on Molly. The woman splutters and sits up. 

“Where’s the boy! I was trying to help the ungrateful orphan!” She bellows and Remus quickly restrains her as she tries to head for the door. 

“Check then, Snape,” Sirius snarls tauntingly, pulling Molly’s chin up so she’s forced to look into Snape’s eyes. 

Snape stares at her for a good few minutes, casting diagnostic spells and even going as far as to use legilimancy but when he pulls away with a dark scowl they know the results all came back negative. 

“She’s under no influence but her own insanity,” Snape practically spits. 

“Severus—“

“No Albus, Black is right, she will not be staying anywhere near Potter ever again. We should be sending her straight to Azkaban for the use of an unforgivable and torture but we all know you won’t do away with her just because of this incident,” Snape observes, sneering harshly at the woman in the chair. 

“Well, then we best be taking Molly back to the burrow,” Albus sighs. 

“I’m taking her wand,” Remus declares even as Molly starts to scream protests and profanities. 

“Remus, I feel as though you’re overreacting now, my dear boy,” Albus remarks. 

“I’m taking. Her wand.” Remus repeats, picking the wand up and walking out of the room, probably to hide it somewhere she’ll never see it again. 

“Overreacting...” Sirius whispers, half disbelieving, half unhinged. “Get out, Albus and take the Weasleys with you.” He commands after a moment, pulling on the wards in warning. 

“All of them, surely not, my boy?” Albus goads, resigned now that Sirius and Remus won’t listen to his every word anymore. 

“Yes well, I’ll keep the twins around but Granger can go with them!” Sirius warns and Albus wishes he hadn’t argued. Without Hermione, there’s no one to tell him of Harry’s every move if he asks as such. 

“Hermione, my boy?”

“She hexed Harry, I should’ve kicked her out when it happened!” Sirius growls. 

“Very well,” Albus concedes. 

Minutes later and everybody is packed, the twins declined staying saying it’d be better incase Harry felt compelled to forgive Molly due to their presence. 

Albus seemingly isn’t happy with their decision at all but eventually gives up trying to persuade them to stay and ‘help Harry heal’ for almost ten minutes and getting no closer to changing their minds. 

Remus ushers them all over to the floo after returning from hiding Molly’s wand and unceremoniously shoves the still bound Weasley Matriarch into the floo after shouting the name for her over her crazed screaming. 

When all the Weasleys and Hermione are gone, he then turns on Albus, demanding he leaves too. 

Albus turns to Sirius expectantly but Sirius shakes his head, “Remus has as much say as I do in who stays in the house, I think you’re better off relocating the headquarters if you want the Weasley’s to stay involved because they aren’t welcome in my home ever again.”

“What of Arthur?” Albus almost pleads. 

“Absolutely not,” Sirius snaps, remembering his godsons reaction to the man just a few days ago. 

“Sirius this is unreasonable, I demand—“ 

“You will demand nothing of me in my own home!” Sirius retaliates, cutting Albus off before the elderly man can continue his steadily growing rant of frustration. Albus flushes an unflattering colour and leaves in a flourish of neon orange robes that hurt Sirius’ eyes even after having adjusted to them. 

The kitchen falls silent after that, the three men still occupying the kitchen are left seething in anger, the unfairness of the situation catching up to them all. 

“I should’ve killed her,” Remus curses silently, his eyes glowing the brightest amber Sirius has ever seen, including the days before the full moon. 

“She will never see Harry again,” Sirius vows more to himself than Remus. 

“What happened after you found Potter under the curse?” Snape asks, breaking the heavy silence with his smooth tones. 

“Harry ran off and we bound her,” Remus answers, sighing heavily as he flops down onto one of the chairs that’s not covered in wax or blood. 

“And you have not gone to find the boy?” Snape demands in obvious horror. 

“Harry’s upstairs, I waited until he came back into the wards to call Dumbledore,” Sirius explains softly. 

“Should we go see if he needs healing?” Snape wonders. 

Kreacher pops in then, hissing lowly, “Worthy Master has healed himself and shall not be disturbed by yous!”

“You little—“

“Sirius!” Remus snaps, turning to look at Kreacher seriously. “Is he okay?” 

“There was blood, lots of blood but he has been healed!” Kreacher promises, looking somewhat tearful for the first time since Regulus’ disappearance. 

“So, listen buddy, I need to get you a bed for when we go to Hogwarts —regulation and all— so are you coming with or staying here?” Harry asks the cat as he wraps himself up, glad for the dismal weather of London making his usage of scarfs not stand out as strange. 

Cat —Harry really needs to give him a name other than Cat, or preferably figure out his real one— tilts his head contemplating before meowing in agreement, jumping up off the bed to land on Harry’s shoulder, looking at Harry searchingly after his performance. 

“Yes, yes, very impressive,” Harry reluctantly indulges, reaching up to stroke Cat’s head. 

Considering the condition that his throat is in, Harry has decided not to waste his energy speaking to anyone other than Cat —to not cause anymore damage of course, not because his trust issues have just been verified immensely. 

He considers telling Cat he knows that he’s an animagus, but that would take the fun out of buying him cat toys and embarrassing whoever the poor soul is. 

“Off we go then,” Harry mumbles, pulling his cloak tighter around his chest. 

He’d heard the commotion this morning, heard Sirius and Remus ban the others from Grimmauld at his expense before they both retired to sleep themselves, having stayed up all night for his return. 

Tiptoeing down the stairs, Harry wonders if his silent footsteps are an acquired skill from his time at the Dursleys; Harry knew better than to make any noise even on these creaky floorboards that no one else can avoid making squeak. 

He’d decided that even after the incident, he didn’t want to stay inside: he was probably safer outside than in Grimmauld place, last night (this morning?) had proved as much. 

Shutting the door behind him, Harry exhales deeply, a small smile gracing his lips. That smile falls as quick as it came when Harry spies two trails of dried blood leading left and right, his own he’s sure from when he ran away and when he made his way back. 

Ignoring the trails, Harry makes his way swiftly through the streets, hunching his shoulders slightly and letting his hair fall in front of his eyes to hide his features from passers by. 

Arriving at the local shopping market again, Harry decides to ignore the two wizards he can feel trailing him, he doesn’t care for company any more than he did last time —in fact, he most definitely cares less for company. 

Not that he gets a choice, obviously, as two wizards sidle up on either side of him, their left forearms swarmed in the same dark magic as always. 

Cat seems to become uncomfortable under the curious gazes so Harry pulls Cat down into his arms so Cat can hide his face in Harry’s chest, some of Cat’s shaking ceasing slightly now. 

“Is he usually this... talkative?” A familiar drawl asks from behind him which only lets Harry recognise him as Lucius Malfoy. He wonders how badly his Malfoy would cry if he saw his father in the muggle world right now. 

“He’s usually a lot more fun,” Evan —as always— chimes, his voice suspicious. “What’s the matter, Harry?” He inquires, reaching down to place a hand on Harry’s shoulder only for Harry to flinch away so hard he stumbles away. “Okay, no touching. Understood,” Evan reassures, holding his hands up in surrender. 

Harry inhales deeply, ducking his head to stare down into the blue eyes of his cat and push himself to keep walking. 

He ignores the incessant chatter of the two as they observe the muggles around him, deciding to focus on his destination rather than taking his time to see what they’re doing when the briefest of brushing contact makes him want to hurl or fall over. 

Coming out today was probably not Harry’s smartest idea when he’s not fully stable or healed and he’s sure that some of his wounds have reopened on his neck. 

Entering the pet shop gives Harry a feeling that this is the most peace he’ll get today. The shop is scarce, with only one old lady buying dog biscuits and the cashier sitting behind the till reading through a magazine occupying the otherwise empty store. 

He doesn’t comment on the two men following him in although they do get some raised eyebrows from the middle aged cashier underneath her curly black fringe. 

Making his way over to the feline section, Cat takes that moment to slink back up to rest on his shoulders, peering curiously at things as they pass —Harry will admit whoever it is, he’s good at acting like he’s actually a fluffy pet and not a fully grown man sitting on a teenagers shoulders. Yeah, that imagery isn’t something Harry needed either. 

“I’m assuming this cat is yours after all?” Lucius Malfoy asks quietly. Harry looks up at him searchingly before nodding once sharply, trying to ignore the way Cat moves away from both men. Harry doesn’t think animagus is a light wizard, not from the way Harry hasn’t reacted negatively to his presence so he’s unsure what to make of this obvious dislike. 

“Can I help you with something, darling?” The cashier asks, walking up behind him to smile welcomingly at him. 

Harry opens his mouth to speak before feeling his throat protest at the movement and he grimaces. 

“Can’t speak?” She asks and he shakes his head. “That’s alright, just point out to me what it is you’re looking for,” she offers, staring pointedly at Cat on Harry’s shoulders. 

Harry moves to point hesitantly at the beds and then to Cat so she can see clearly what he needs. 

“Can I see your cat for a minute? It might help me find the right size,” she questions and Harry hesitates before nodding. He gently pulls Cat from his shoulders and holds him out, ignoring the way his claws dig into Harry’s wrists. “Abandonment issues, huh?” She observes slowly. 

Harry gently moves the cat until the scar on his side is displayed so he can help the woman understand more. “Poor thing,” she mumbles. 

Harry nods in agreement, not knowing how the animagus was actually injured in the first place but can only imagine it was some form of animal abuse and not a fight. 

“I’ve got the perfect thing!” She announces, letting go of Cat who quickly scrambles up to cling to Harry’s neck making him hiss under his breath in pain. Cat has the decency to look apologetic as he moves to lay in Harry’s arms instead. 

“You’re injured,” Evan states quietly as they follow the cashier. 

Harry blatantly ignores him and pushes past the two men as they try to block him to catch up with the nice lady helping them. 

“Here you are, darling,” she declares, handing him a medium sized bed with a furry white lining. He nods his head in thanks and she walks back over to the register where the old woman from earlier is waiting with dog treats. 

After that, Harry quickly picks up some cat food and cat toys just to make it look like he actually has a cat and not a human, ignoring the distasteful hissing from Cat on his shoulder. 

Buying the items is easier than Harry thought it would be without his voice as the kind woman does most of it for him, even bagging his things when he tries to protest nonverbally. 

Standing outside the store, Malfoy goes to open his mouth again but is interrupted by an exclamation. 

“Harry!” They all turn to see Remus making his way towards them, a look of pure relief on his face. 

Harry sees him and panics, shrinking his bags and taking off, clutching Cat to his chest as he glides through the muggles, ducking into alleyways when he hears the trio getting nearer. 

“Harry, please! We were worried!” Remus pleads as he continues to get no closer to Harry who continues unstopping at the same quick pace.

Harry pauses, turning to face the man as he makes his way towards Harry, stopping a few paces away in an empty street. Harry looks behind him to see the two Death Eaters discreetly pointing their wands at Remus and scowls, walking around Remus to stand in between them. 

“You didn’t take the potion we left for you before you went out,” Remus explains, pulling out a vial of dark blue liquid. 

“What is it?” Harry asks hoarsely, ignoring the surprised noises at the sound of his broken voice as he stares suspiciously at the vial. 

Remus looks behind him for a moment, thinking something over before answering. “Anti-crutiatus potion,” he explains, holding it out further to Harry. 

“They didn’t give me this last time,” he mumbles, narrowing his eyes at the werewolf even while knowing he can trust Remus with his life. 

“You’ve been crucioed before?” Remus demands angrily. 

“At the graveyard,” Harry murmurs, taking the potion from Remus with clearly shaking hands and swallowing it in one gulp. 

“You’re bleeding!” Remus says alarmed, taking small steps closer to Harry. 

Harry’s eyes widen as he reaches up to find the blood has soaked through both his bandages and his scarf. He chuckles bitterly. 

“They’re gone now right?” He asks, walking forward to meet Remus in annoyance at the other mans treatment. 

“We kicked them out this morning, it’s just us and padfoot now,” Remus promises. “And your cat I guess,” he adds, eyeing the bundle of fur in Harry’s arms. 

“And who crucioed mister potter exactly?” Malfoy drawls from behind them where they’ve caught up looking disgustingly not-disheveled. 

“Still none of your business,” Harry chimes mockingly. 

“Molly Weasley,” Remus answers at the same time. 

“Why would you— I’m going home now.” Harry sighs, walking straight past Remus and wondering if his immunity means that people who hurt him will get slaughtered for that —then he feels bad and stops thinking about that. 

The days after that, Harry likes to call ‘the cat chronicles’ where he works on his voice by talking to no one but Kreacher and Cat because talking to Hestia sadly hurts more than talking normally. 

“Did you know the Dark Lord gave me immunity?” He asks one morning as he’s laying on the library floor with Cat curled up on his chest. 

Cat tenses slightly, peering up at Harry through narrowed eyes and slitted pupils. 

“Well, more like Vienna vouched for me to get immunity. That’s why Death Eaters have been following me everywhere. They can’t hurt me but some of them are fun to talk to,” Harry explains. He’s feeling out the possibilities of who the animagus is, by detailing his immunity, he’s securing his own safety in the idea of this being a Death Eater. 

“I’m a dark wizard, you know?” Harry inquires, deciding to go for a different route that will help both of them. The statement seems to surprise Cat as it would anyone and he purrs in excitement, probably at being let in on what Harry does while he locks himself away from everyone to practice necromancy. 

On that note, “I’m a necromancer.” Cat jumps up, hissing in disbelief. Harry stays laying where he is. 

He thinks about what to say next. Whoever the animagus is definitely wont reveal themselves voluntarily and the other Death Eaters didn’t seem to recognise the cat so he’s probably not a spy and more so an actual sort of stray with nowhere to go. 

“I figured it out when I accidentally killed my relatives a few weeks ago. Then I revived them out of panic. I was obviously very confused and I didn’t find out I was a necromancer until a few days ago to be fair. 

“The dementor that attacked me didn’t kiss me —actually that might’ve happened, I wouldn’t be surprised— but they pulled a curse out of me and after that was the first time I’ve ever done dark magic. 

“It made me react really badly to light magic. I couldn’t look at the walls where Mrs Weasley had put cleaning charms without my eyes hurting and touching light magic burned my skin. I’m sure it’ll calm down eventually —hopefully before school because I can only do light magic there.” 

Throughout Harry’s little rambles, Cat has moved closer, eventually returning to perch on Harry’s chest and stare at him in curiosity. 

“That’s what the plants are for, by the way. To practice Death Magic.” He points behind them to where the little tray of plants are still sitting, the same place they were when Harry originally brought them in here. 

Hestia flies over for the first time in days to land on Harry’s hand. 

“ _He sssmellsss like the red man_ ,” she announces, seemingly proud to have figured out what she’s been focused on for days, stalking cat religiously. 

“ _The red man?_ ” Harry asks vaguely. 

“ _The mad man, the one who helped you lassst year_ ,” she explains. 

Suddenly, it all clicks into place in Harry’s mind. 

Carefully, he says, “I can sense magic.” And as expected, Cat freezes in fear. 

“It’s nice to see you again,  _Barty_ .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Albus: h  
> Sirius: woof woof 
> 
> This has been sitting in my notes bc I was too lazy to post it when I finished it and then just kept forgetting so sorry for that <3
> 
> WELCOME BARTY!!! And less enthusiastically, Lucius Malfoy,
> 
> I’ve been, very sick lately but things have been getting better for me mentally I guess idk?


End file.
